


A blank canvas

by Erisandmira



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Game: Kingdom Hearts Chain of Memories, Gen, Organization member!Naminé, Pre-Kingdom Hearts Chain of Memories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2019-11-14 13:10:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erisandmira/pseuds/Erisandmira
Summary: Marluxia meets shy, terrified and timid Naminé. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on who you ask, he also finds feelings. For the she brings back memories of the most important person in his life.





	1. Chapter 1

Castle oblivion was originally established to be a research facility. They conducted vital studies on memories. Made significant breakthroughs on the Replica Project, which was dedicated to recreating the powers of the Keyblade. It used to be the main sanctuary of pioneering, dedicated to the arts of science and curiosity. A worthy place where one could find themselves among the intellectuals of the Organization.

 

Or so Vexen complained bitterly when Xemnas had entrusted the castle to Marluxia.

 

Even now, the Chilly Academic was on Marluxia´s heels as he crossed into the castle. The scythe wielder was surveying the fortress's halls, hoping to gain an understanding of the layout. From the outside, the architecture had been remarkable; a lone structure standing in the midst of large grassy plains and hills, reaching towards the sky.

 

Intricate emblems were embedded the walls inside. Instead of straight walls the hallway has a curve, disappearing from sight in a hundred meters or so. Closed identical doorways edged in grey, begging him to reveal their mystery.

 

Without pausing he bypass them all heading for the very top, because that's where the greatest puzzle was waiting.

 

He could have taken a portal straight to it, but Marluxia liked to take things in. There was so much in their environments one could failed to notice. This was now his domain. Since it was his first visit, he wanted to experience it. He had a feeling that this castle was labyrinth of passages and chambers. Yes, it had the feel of a graveyard of secret.

 

He could, however, have lived without the snide remarks of his persistent company.

 

“-we scientists are the bearers of the torch of discovery and the most important pieces in the organization’s quest for knowledge! Why, I would even go as far as say we-“ Vexen said, strutting behind him. Large, bright green eyes locked on him with loathing.

 

Marluxia was not paying him any particularly attention. For all Vexen´s insinuating that he was simpleton, the scientist was the one struggling to accept the simple facts of reality. Marluxia was in charge. He was not.

 

“-Not to mention that I´m the highest-ranking member of the Organization present.  It would be a pity if our efforts would be foiled by limited expertise.” Vexen paused. Looking at Marluxia expectably.  Perhaps anticipating a humble renouncement of his claim to this castle? Hah!

 

Truthfully, Marluxia felt quite above the mediocrity of their Organization. Most of the members were unsophisticated and dreadfully plain, though they might have a glimmer of potential, if allied to his vision and brain. Which was why he was planning the coup of the century.

 

Yet, it was almost too tempting to indulge in the irony of using the authority, bestowed upon him by their leader, to immediately eradicate this loyal member of the Organization. Vexen carried deep-seated aversion towards him and would most likely be hinder to his conspiracy, but the two other basement members would however be suspicious if he disappeared.

 

Marluxia could not afford to bare his teeth and ambitions this early. So instead he smiled and assured him they would work together for the Organizations best interest. However, he could not resist reminded him with haughty indifference; “This operation was entrusted to me. I will heed your consul, when you offer something _besides_ this broken record speech.”

 

As luck would have it, he was spared Vexen´s lengthy reply when they arrived at their destination. For Larxene, blessed may she be, interrupted the beginning of his tirade.

 

"Ooh, there they are! I see you're living up to your name, Vexen?" She said, smirking as she walked towards them. There was a certain overly-proud lilt to her steps, a confidant sway in her hips and a mocking grin on her face. It screamed Larxene and stood in great contrast to the timidness of the small child she was violently pushing forwards.

 

A child Marluxia assumed was the very centerpiece of their plan.  The strange nobody who had suddenly appeared in this castle. Her extraordinary abilities of memory manipulation drew their attention and lead them to keep her. After all, the Nobodies of the Organization, where begins who only had their memories to form personalities with. Thus, finding her powers quite fascinating.

 

And now she was to be the main actress of the play to chain the keyblade wielder in servility. To make the boy view the world the way Marluxia wanted and further his ambitions.

 

He studied the girl carefully as she walked timidly towards him. Her lace dress was torn and more tapered than white. She held herself like she was trying to take up even less space than she already did and her clothes look at least a size too big, emphasizing her skinniness. Soft blond curls fell to her shoulders, while the shorter strands hung forwards to hide her eyes. He could only catch glimpses of dull blue, reflected weariness.

 

Vexen passed a scratching remark to Larxene, her reply was lost on Marluxia.

 

For he was transfixed by that small blond girl. In that moment, everything felt stretched. Marluxia found himself sinking beneath a cold surface, arms dragging along the bottom of memories. Yet, only darkness engulfed his thoughts, stealing his ability to navigate through old familiar emotions hurtled on him.

 

He should not even be able to feel! They did not possess feeling.

 

Nonetheless, here they appeared like a shove from behind, toppling him over, leaving him barely able to catching himself before he hit the ground.

 

Anger. Fear. Worry. Happiness. Confusion. ~~(Please, please, be alive. I won't fail you again)~~

 

A sense of anguish, more so than pain, had taken rule of his mind, and he became extremely light-headed.

 

She looked deathly pale, like her breathing would stop any moment. Staring down at her ill-fitting light blue sandals. She was still, so quiet, almost non-existing.

 

Surely, she was a ghost? For Marluxia felt positively _haunted_.

 

“-Marluxia?”

 

The uncharacteristic concern in Larxene's voice brought him out of his haze. A startled gasp escaped his lips as he re-surfaced to reality. All three blonds stared at him.

 

Still feeling dizzy, he stepped back and turned to the girl hesitantly. Trying to regain his balance he addressed the cause of his distraction. So, far softer than he intended, he said. "Naminé, was it? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Marluxia, Number XI."


	2. Chapter 2

White.

 

The color of purity and innocence

 

Some would consider white a blank page. Those with an optimistic view of human potential might associate it with fresh beginnings and renewal.

 

Marluxia´s personally it found simple and dull. It lacked personality, easily overlook for the more, well, _colorful_ counterparts. Yet, it was fitting, he supposed, that it was the color their little with was warped in.

 

Under Vexen´s suspicious surveillance, he had not dared to say much to her. After the introduction, he barely acknowledged her. Talking around her as though she wasn’t present.

 

That pale creature, who carved open his head, prompting strange emotions to leak out. They connected together to form thin strings pulling him towards her. Thus, leading him to seek her out after a long day of assigning missions to everyone in the castle.

 

An empty large room caged her. Cold in its tranquility with polished concrete floor and towering white walls. The tiny girl was hunched pitifully on a lonesome chair. Like a single daffodil struggling to sprout in an unforgiving environment.

 

Even now, all by herself, she was quiet and listless. Almost like a corpse devoid of life.

 

A chill ran down Marluxia´s spine at that thought. Fear raced furiously in his veins, but he didn´t allow it to make to his facial muscles. There would be no point in rehashing their first meeting.

 

He glided his way towards her unhurried. His posture remaining composed and indifferent, eyes as steady as if he was completing a tedious chore. Stopping a few steps before her, he cleared his throat. “May I have your attention, little one?”

 

Silence greeted him. She remained unmoving, so still that one could mistake her for a statue. Adding fuel to his anxiety.

 

“Naminé” He tried again. The name felt a bit odd ( ~~wrong~~ ).  When she yet again failed to produce a response or even acknowledge him, he cautiously crunched down so he could see her face. A slight trembling followed his movements.

 

A few dried teardrops clung to her eyelashes and the only movement was the slight rise and fall of her chest. Her features were much softer in sleep, the anxious lines that creased her brow missing. Her faintly red nose made gentle snuffling noises as she breathed.

 

Usually, he would find such careless disregard for his presence to be granting, but on this occasion, it was too convenient for him to muster up irritation. After all, it allowed him to observe the timid creature. 

 

Such an odd girl. His mind flew from one wild idea to another as he tried to puzzle out the reason she captivated him.

 

To the casual observer, what Marluxia would claim was cold scrutiny, looked like him gazing at her in wonder.

 

When Namine finally woke up she found a simple rose resting on her feet.

  

 

-

 

 

He wishes he could say that was the last time he indulged in such odd behavior. But he said that last time he spied on her. And the time before that. And before that.

 

Now it had become something like a twisted pastime.

 

He would spend most his days discussing the finer details of the master plan with the other members. Trying to bury himself in work. Exploring the caste, sparing with Larxene, keeping an eye on Vexen.

 

But no matter how much he tried to fill the day, he always would be drawn back to her. Whenever she was out of his line of vision, a constant itching would plague his mind until he returned to her.  

 

~~Is she okay? Is she healty? Is she alive?~~

 

Illusions were not his field of expertise, no that arena belong to the sullen Zexion, but he had accumulated enough practice to perform a simple concealment trick, which only held if he didn't move. A useful skill for assassination.

 

Never did he expect he would employ it to spy on a little girl.

 

If the story ever got out to the rest of the organization he might just die of shame. Truly, he can't ever remember having ever felt such embarrassment and self-loathing.  Then again, he suffered from an unusual amount of amnesia loss for a being made up of memories. A fact he had not disclosed to the rest of the organization, lest they try to take advantage of him.

 

The girl remained oblivious to his present. Doing little in the time she has for herself.  Withering away silently. Her quiet misery driving him up the wall.

 

~~(He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go)~~

 

A month into his struggles he found her curled up on her chair. A long time passed until he heard muffled but distinct sound of quiet sobbing.  

 

He couldn't allow this to continue. His sanity was on the verge of extinction.

 

-

 

“….It that a bed?” Larxene asked when she found him commanding dusks. Marluxia found the question quite insipid and didn't dignified it with an answer. Granted, he doubts she would consider his reasons a proper explanation for his action.  

 

He ordered the dusks to move the bed in to her room, ignoring the bewildered nymph. Honestly, why where the making the poor girl sleep on a chair? It was barbaric.

 

-

 

A new discovery made itself apparent in his last visits to the girl; She liked drawing.

 

But where did she get a sketchbook? It certainly didn't just lie in the room. Marluxia was a little flummoxed. When he made subtly inquiries about in a meeting with the castle oblivion staff, he found out that Vexen of all people had given her one of his notebooks.”- Visualization is very useful for drawing out her power. It greatly increases the efficacy and precession of her abilities!  And isn’t that the most exacting discovery-“

 

In hindsight, it certainly explained why she only had low budget crayons to drawn with. Vexen completely lacked appreciation for art. It was disgraceful. Surely, they could afford more expensive quality equipment.

 

For the sake of their mission, of course. Her abilities where the cornerstone of their plot and it was his duty to do all he could to improve the efficiency and quality of it. So, logically he should buy art supplies. Some pencils, brushes, paper and hardback sketchbooks, ink, a few canvases and maybe palettes too?

 

-

 

“Say, is there any particular reason Naminé´s room look like messy art gallery?” The newly arrived Axel asked, leaning nonchalantly on the chair Larxene was seated. The gleam in his eye belied his casual tone.

 

Larxene rolled her eyes, twirling her hair. “What are you talking about? Sculpture equipment is standard prisoner gear, right Marluxia?”

 

“…”

 

Perhaps he went a bit overboard.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I consider updating this next week, but I really want to hear your thoughts on it. Reviews fuel me and pushes me to write. Thanks for the support so far :D


	3. Chapter 3

Axel sat leaned back in his chair, lanky legs stretching towards the table where his heels rested. His head was tilted curiously towards Larxene, who engaged him in a conversation on the merits of long-project weapons. All while making sly innuendoes which Axel remained unfazed thorough.

 

Wearing a smirk that possessed a stand-offish quality that dared contact without inviting it, he projected an image of unconcernedness that would set anyone at ease.

 

Marluxia observed him from the corner of his eye at the end of the table.

 

With the redhead´s arrival Vexen could finally be dismissed back to the basement with Lexaeus and Zexion— thus sweeping the old-timers of the organization far away from Marluxia´s scheme.  Though he was pleased to be rid of the scientist, Axel was far from the most easy member to deal with.

 

In terms of ability, power and over-all being sociable, Axel far surpassed Vexen. He also possessed a cold, unforgiving, and ruthless demeanor Marluxia could approve of. A useful addition on normal circumstances.

 

Yet, Marluxia was not fooled by the air of benign affability. Desirable qualities in allies could be devastating on a foe.

 

For who knew where Axel´s allegiances lie? His close ties to Saïx, the second-in-command to Xemnas, should make him an adversary, but the man didn´t strike Marluxia as particularly loyal.  

 

Or perhaps it would be more precise to say he sensed layers upon layers of loyalties. He had been rather quickly to initiating a camaraderie with the keyblade wielder Roaxas, despite his usual aloof personality.

 

Marluxia might have chosen to ignore all this and put faith in his own ability to manipulate any situation that might arise to his advantage. He might have tried to test Axel and court him to his side. He might have.

 

But any chance of trust evaporated the moment Axel spoke Naminé´s name. 

 

Just the thought of the pyromaniac close to her made anger flare up inside him. Shrill screams demanding violence clashed against a lonesome voice of caution, whispers softly not make any hasty decisions. He barley resisted the urge to summon his scythe. Every emotion was wiped away from his face and his body stood relaxed.  Still, Larxene was not fooled.

 

Tossing her blond hair, she glanced his way, picking up his aggravation with an ease Marluxia always found startling.   

 

A pretty smile lit up her face in a way that never meant good things. More often than not, her cheerfulness ran on cold malice instead of any form of authentic joy. Gleefully she said. “Speaking of violent eruptions, have you spoken to Vexen?” 

 

Axel arched an eyebrow at her. “No. Why would I?”

 

“To inform him that he can finally return to his research, seeing as we now have all the members need on the topside.”

 

“How thoughtful of you to bring it up. He´ll find out soon enough.”

 

“Come on, you know Vexen, he gets so antsy without his pampering.” She rolled back her shoulders and observed as his eyes flickered downwards. “If you have time to introduce yourself to captives, you might as well pay your respect to your elders.”

 

Marluxia bit down his amusement when she waved her arm at the redhead, even adding a “Shoo”. Unfortunately, Axel didn´t even blink. Scrutinizing feline-like eyes shifted over to Marluxia. A thoughtful noise vibrating his throat.  

 

“Heh, I can tell when I´m not wanted.” He said flippantly. Then he left the room, not a backward glance, only the sound of his heavy footfalls echoing remaining.

 

 

 

The scythe wielder addressed Larxene shortly after. “Was that really necessary? Our plans hardly need the added complication of Axel doubting me.”

 

She gave him an unimpressed stare. ”I´m not sure I´m following you. What exactly are you pissed about?”

 

“Don´t play ignorant, you know very well I mean the comment about Naminé.”  

 

“Oh, lay off it Marluxia!” The blond sneered. A storm brewing in her eyes. “You have hardly been subtle, Axel just arrived and was already developing questions. I gave you an _opportunity_ to address it.”

 

 

“So, you were doing me a favor?” Marluxia narrowed his eyes at her. Feeling his anger at Axel surfacing. His fingers tightened a fist, he could to see the redhead's neck snapping in his mind and it felt good.

 

“Yes.” She hissed.

 

“Then, spare me the effort next time.” He dismissed. Abruptly, he was hit with the fear that Axel returned to Naminé´s room. It was irrational, yet the fearful thoughts looped around in his mind until there was no room for anything else.

 

~~She is in danger-- He´ll hurt her—not again.~~

 

Like waves, the horror swallowed him. Unable to surface to breathe, he suffocated and drowned in emotions he couldn´t recognize. Just as his eyesight started to blur, Larxene asked; “Do you fancy her?”

 

And he promptly spat the air out, coughing violently. He bent over sharply as if he'd been punched, followed by feeling surges of vomit rising from his gut. The thought struck him as deeply disturbing. Wrong. Ridiculous.

 

Larxene´s eyes gleamed in amusement.

 

“Never have I been asked anything more insulting! Do you take me for a degenerate?” Marluxia stared at her in utter horrification. Disgusted to the core.  She was a child for kingdom hearts sake!

 

“Gee, relax! No need to get so aggravated” She flailed her arms at him dramatically. “Then, what is all this? You've been behaving like fucking lunatic ever since she came.”

 

He spluttered, starting to defend himself, “I don’t-”

 

Larxene cut him off with a look. As much Marluxia wanted to continue this denial, his….worry for Naminé returned with full force. His insides tightened and he felt his anxiety flare. He had to do something, something soon, or she might get hurt ( ~~again~~ ).

 

An idea struck him, shivers thundered up his spine as if electrocuting him. He startled the blond as he suddenly started to pace the room. “We could make her a member. One of us.”

 

“Wait-What?”

 

“Think about it, why treat her as a pawn when she could be a queen?” His smile grow of its own accord. Her powers are exceptional. Perhaps they could even explain his strange fascination with her. She had limitless potential, why waste it solely on the keyblade wielder?

 

“Hold up, she is weak, she would be liability!” Larxene said.

 

“Her talents do not currently lie in battle, but only because we haven´t found a violent application of them. And we could train her in combat.”  The stronger she was, the less likely was she to disappear.

 

Later, Marluxia would wonder why it felt natural to involve Larxene. She was sadistic, callous and the worries of others were of no concern to her unless she was directly impacted. She would sooner eat a child, than nurture it.

 

Yet, he had an intuitive conviction that there was none who would understand why Naminé had to be protected better than her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you for the kudoes and reviews, they really filled me with joy and motivation. I would love to hear what you think of this chapter, next one will involve a conversation with Naminé :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted chapter 3 yesterday, so don't skip it :)

Having decided a course of action Marluxia felt lighter than he has in a long time.

 

Naminé was to be their ally.

 

There was something about it that warmed his core, brought a surge of energy that was purer than anything he'd felt before. For too long had he dwelled in uncertainty and confusion. His instincts insisted that she should be held in the highest regard.

 

Quiet and delicate as she was now, he would have to carefully cradle the potential that dwelled within. Indeed, buried beneath cold and indifferent snow, was a tiny seed that would blossom to a vibrant and strong flower.

 

Much work lied ahead.

 

He saw no reason to postponed his meeting with her now that he knew what to do.

 

 

*

 

Walking on autopilot while his brain prepared for every possible scenario, Marluxia made his way to Naminé. After much consideration, he decided it would be best not to teleport there. Partly, as a strategy to win her favor, but also because of a lingering sense of guilt over having breached her privacy on multiple occasions. Not that he would admit to the last one. Besides, he hadn´t been there a while.

 

When at last he arrived at the tall white door, he felt a hint of…. nervousness ambushing him. Before it could get a foothold, he drew in a quick breath and knocked gently at the door.

 

The act was merely a formality; seeing as her door was locked from the outside. After giving her ample time to prepare for a visit, he withdrew the keys and with a sudden jerking movement, he stepped back and opened the door.

 

Her room was a far cry from the empty chamber it started off as. Half-finished sketches and doodles of ducks, mice and dogs with clothes littered the floor. Some blank canvases were stacked against a corner, while others were displayed along the walls. Landscape paintings of islands, portraits of a laughing redhead and abstract pieces. Occasional sculptures surfaced, though they were less proficient and the bed stood in the far corner of the room, where colored pencils and crayons lived in abundance.

 

It was a jungle of creative outlet, a beautiful array of colors and shapes, and glimpse into the mind of a marvel.

 

Amidst all the chaos stood a startled Naminé with her easel. Her eyes darted between him and the door, as though surprised it could be opened. She put down her brush among her paint box, palettes, and dried tubes of paint. Confusion colored her, but mercifully she didn´t seem scared.

 

Words left him as those bright blue eyes settled on him. He couldn’t help staring at her in awe, wondering how she managed to achieve this level of talent. Suddenly, he felt inadequate. The notion that he could improve this already precious girl was utterly arrogant and preposterous.

 

He fought not to fidget or shuffle his feet at the awkward silence that lay between them. Desperately searching his mind for something to say.  While he fumbled, Naminé beat him to it. When she spoke her voice trails slowly, like her words are unwilling to take flight. "Marluxia... I didn´t expect you —  have I, is something wrong?"

 

Looking at him with so much anxiety that it snapped him back.  Immediately, he assured. “No. On the contrary, I come here bearing good news.”

 

“Good news?” She repeated, still wearing a puzzled expression

 

“Indeed, we — that being me and Larxene— have been discussing your place in the organization. We eventually came to an agreement that a more interactive role would suit you. "

 

He found himself taking a step towards her, but stopped when he saw it startled her into retreated, a look of discomfiture flashing through her face. Mindful of her skittishness, he made his voice carefully neutral. “I will acknowledge that your stay in this castle have been somewhat involuntary.”

 

“Now that's an understatement.” She said, then slapped her hand over her mouth. Horror rounded her eyes. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat. “ S-sorry.”

  

Marluxia was almost affronted; he didn't like to be interrupted, much less contradicted. Yet, he was too surprised to really get aggravated. Seems like this flower might have some thorns. Graciously he continued. “Apology accepted. You might not have join this on your own accord. But I don't believe treating you as a captive benefit any of us. Not when you can stand with us as an equal, granted you earn our trust.”

 

He paused to allow her to respond when he noticed her biting her lip. Finding it nothing short of endearing. She glanced back at him; a gentle flush of pink had arisen in her cheeks that made her look vulnerable.

 

~~I would do anything in this world to keep you safe~~

 

Her voice was quieter now, less sure:” What exactly does that mean?”

 

Marluxia resisted the urge to promise her everything. “I´m proposing an alliance, I do not want to keep you imprisoned. Work together with me and I’ll return your freedom. The choice is yours.”

 

“And if I choose not to?”

 

Not exactly the grateful and eagerly reply he expected. Needless to say, he was a tad miffed. The blond didn't squirm or fidget, but she appeared uncomfortable under his intense stare. Still, she remained steadfastly silent, her flushed face also carrying defiance.

 

 

“We would find ourselves at an impasse.” He said.

 

Silence followed his words, it lingered in the air, thick and heavy.

 

His eyes flickered over the assortment of paintings that hung above her bed. One drawing caught his attention.

 

A flower consisting of three brilliant orange sepals and three white petals. Two evergreen leaves forming a fan-shaped crown. The petals fan widely over the canvas and were more vivid then anything Marluxia had seen. Certainly, he could almost detect a fragrance, poking memories long forgotten, echoes of those long-ago garden lessons jarred his mind.

 

~~It’s a beautiful flower, isn’t? It shares your name, Ster-~~

 

A sharp intake of breath interrupted his thought process. While shaking off the haze of confusion, Marluxia missed Naminé’s panicked expression as she saw what caught his attention. Color drained from her face and her hands were clenched fiercely.

 

She composed herself quicker than him and began to wade through the mess. A look of determination on her face.  She dipped her head in a polite bow when she reached him. Holding his full attention again. This close he could see a myriad of colors staining her clothes and skin. Dry red paint clung to her hair. Unexpectedly, she said; ”I like to express my gratitude for your generosity. Both the gifts and the opportunity. I gladly accept.”

 

The flower painting was missing the next time Marluxia visited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I love Naminé. Thanks for the support, I really enjoy reading your thoughts. Maybe a bit too much, but that just mean quicker updates :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited the chapter a bit.

_He awoke to a field of flowers. Clusters of daffodils reared their golden heads amidst the damp spring grass and there were smatters of heliotropes alongside white daisies, purple asters and many others that his sleepy mind could not bother to identify. Soft sweet petals brushed gently against his bare feet and he breathed in the aroma of thousands of flowers._

_He felt truly at peace. Never more content than when the sun shone warmly upon his skin._

_“Malu!”_

_Propping himself up with his elbow, his green eyes surveyed the area for the source of his disturbance.  She waddled towards him barefoot and small. Opening a path through the flower with such a speed he felt a surge of alarm. What if she fell? He stood up and walked to meet her halfway. The girl giggled, waving her arms for a pick-up. Naturally, he abided. Spinning her around, her hair, held in pigtails, sparkled like gold. An excited yell rewarded him and soon giggles rolled out of him too._

_When he finally put her down she immediately tugged on his sleeve, clutching a single Dahlia. No doubt wishing that he would tell her it’s name._

 

-

 

He awoke to a white room. A hollow cube of concrete. With him draped in black, presenting an image in harsh monochrome.

 

Utterly confused about what had just happened.

 

A memory?

 

 

-

 

 

“One´s life, we are told, is incomplete unless and until one has tasted love, pain and hope; unless we have a heart to feel all there is to feel. Therefore, we should strive to attain one.”

 

“Having a heart is pretty painful, Marluxia.” Larxene answered absentmindedly. She didn't even look up from her book.

 

“Is pain all you remember?” Marluxia couldn't help frowning. Such words should have sounded maudlin and self-pitying, but none of that was present in her tone. As far as she was concerned, it was a matter of fact, needing no discussion. It might seem a trifle self-indulgent to want to engage in a debate about hearts in the midst of their situation, but Marluxia felt adrift.

 

 

A condescending smile graced her lips. And she looked at him with same unreadable expression he occasionally caught her sending him . “Do you _remember_ anything else?”

 

 

-

 

 

Marluxia was a very busy man.  As lord of Castle Oblivion, he was obligated to act in the best interest of the Organization. Or at least appear to do so. Axel was sent to keep tabs on the Keyblade wielder and delay his arrival here until all was under control.

 

While Vexen still hadn't  "come to terms" with the power shift in the castle, he was positively thrilled to announce the results of his pet project  to all who'd listen, which Marluxia had to since he needed to keep a critical overview all the activities around him.

 

On a personal note, he was the mastermind of an internal rebellion. Aiding to conduct experiments on memories (-and possibly gain some himself). Trying to seize the power of the Keyblade and juggling many, many, other important tasks.

 

This did not cause him to neglect his responsibilities to Naminé. Not at all.

 

He had gifted her, almost apologetic, the organization uniform. It was a rather tacky attire, but a step up from her bland and thin dress. One day, he would provide her with much better.

 

She had grasped the clothes tentative, as though they were something precious. Acting very grateful and appreciative of them.  Clearly, lacking fashion sense. Despite his distaste for the clothes he coaxed her to do a twirl. Inwardly, cooing over how cute and professional she looked.

 

The sleeves were too long, swallowing her hands completely. He suggested swapping them, but she shook her head violently and, much to his bewilderment, stored her sketchbook in them.

 

Despite her door no longer being locked she rarely ventured out, opting to simply join him when he invited her to tours.  He didn't ask about it, mainly because he had yet to find a tactful way to explain he stalked her.

 

 

Yet, all these concerns did not stop him from further confusing his identity crisis by questioning the pre-nobody life. Thoughts looped around in his mind until there was no room for anything else. The "loop" played like this; Who are you? Who, who, who, who? Who are you?

 

It was under this maddening crescendos he snapped at Vexen. Now, more than ever he wanted to hear good news.  The Replica collapsing was not good news.

 

“The replica will be ready, when _I_ decide it is. Our first field test was-”

 

“A failure and I do not approve of failure.” Marluxia interrupted. What use to they have for a puppet that couldn't even fight? What use did he have for disappointment?  His head throbbed furiously, squeezing his eyes shut, he willed Vexen to disappear.  He thought he had found a solution for his confusion. Naminé was a member, all his confusion should have been resolved. Instead he was finding more questions than answers. Pandora's box was opened, and now problems that never exist before appeared.  

 

The Academic waved his finger at him.” Which is why you would make a terrible scientist! The test was supposed to expose any possible design flaws. As a result, I have already upgraded it for greater durability. It will perform flawlessly.”

 

Then his bitter frown transformed itself into a sneer “When something unexpected happen, something confusing, new or exciting.” A contemptuous smile followed when he noticed Marluxia was paying attention. “Then it’s simply an opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently.”

 

How strangely uplifting. Word of wisdom from a mad scientist? Hmm, even a broken clock is right twice a day. As an experiment in endurance, perhaps he should approach his issues like a scientist, like Vexen. It might yield more clarifications.

 

“Now—If I could only access the memory manipulation device- “

 

A fluke, it would seem. White hot anger flared through Marluxia, but he retained his composure. Feeling foolish for giving Vexen’s words any consideration.

 

“She is currently working on a timeline of the keyblade wielder’s life, I will notify you on the results when you have something other than fiascos to rapport.”

 

 

As if he would subject Naminé to Vexen cold demeanor. He always spoke of her as an object. Like he would dissect her for scientific research. No, in that matter he possessed full clarity.

 

-

 

A stroke of brilliance, very characteristic, lead to him reaching a decision. After meticulous planning, he knew exactly how to bring his ambitions to fruition.  And now he shared the plan with his two underlings: Overrun Sora's memory, replace his most important person with Naminé, thus leaving him slave to her wimps (much like himself).

 

 

“He is a classic hero, there are no better strategy than giving him a damsel to rescue.” He gave Naminé an expectant look.  “ All you have to do is switch out this ‘Kairi’ with you.”

 

“Great, really original.” Larxene said unenthusiastic. She was tapping the table repetitively with the end of her blade, glancing longingly at the exit. “Kind of boring, but I guess I can try having fun playing the evil jailor. Perhaps, practice laughing like maniacs?”

 

The sarcasm was unnecessary. He could feel the annoyance radiating from her.  But, he could not for the life of him understand why his plan brought such a reaction. He doubted that it was a moral objection.

 

“Excuse me.” Naminé carefully raised her hand. Probably, needing assurance that she could do this or maybe to offer compliments to this brilliant plan.

 

“Yes?” Marluxia encouraged. Pleased she was taking initiative.

 

“It is a good plan, I mean no offence……It just, I mean, a little unnecessary to rewrite a whole person in his life, it just seems cruel?” She kept her head down.

 

Marluxia felt an irritation swell inside him, he had put a lot of effort into that plan. Yet, these two dared to behave this way! But, it also reminded him that she was a child. He could not be to quick anger, not at her, she just didn´t know better.

 

“Cruel? A shame you feel that way, but unless you have a better idea I would suggest not criticizing others.” He instantly regretted his words when she shrunk. However, necessary they were. He could have been kinder. But it was important to be stern, set limits.

 

“Now, now Marluxia. Don´t be so dismissive!” Larxene mockingly said. “Perhaps Naimné do have a better plan? Sweetie, you are one of us, share!”

 

Naminé snapped her head up, a flash of anger in her eyes revealed that she did not miss Larxene´s ridicule. Biting her lips, she spoke more unmistakably; “I know my abilities. I know almost everything about Sora and those around him. But I do not know what you are trying to achieve or why. Am I really one of you if you won´t share that much with me?”

 

Marluxia was appalled. Larxene giggled.

 

” So, you do have some backbone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that I keep including Vexen in almost every chapter, he just bumps in without really being invited. 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, kudoes really makes me happy. And reviews are fuels that brings this story further forward! I enjoy writing it regardless, but I am curious what you think! What is good? What could be better?


	6. Chapter 6

In retrospect, Maluxia decided, it had mostly been Larxene’s fault. He was reasonable enough not to blame the savage nymph for the entire state of affairs; after all, he did encourage her to spend time with Naminé.

 

Still, he _never_ expected this outcome. He stood rooted to the spot, observing the fire spread with ease, turning the once practical first floor into a maze of flame. It was an inferno fueled by idiocy, well **-** that and alcohol.

 

Further pondering was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek. He turned around to see Vexen running aimlessly, arms flapping almost comically and screaming something unintelligible. Logic truly was panic's prey. The scientist ought to keep his head cold and summon some ice before the whole castle goes up in flames. Or the keyblade wielder shows up.

 

 

Honestly, at this point Marluxia might just welcome death with open arms.

 

 

 

-

 

 

_“But I do not know what you’re trying to achieve or why. Am I really one of you if you won´t share that much with me?”_

 

All good teenage rebellion rejects rational thought. They were rites of passage, he supposed, usually filled with aggressiveness, sarcasm and short temper. But in time she would mellow down and return to be the demure little girl who sat at room drawing.

 

Then again, he didn´t object for her to be a mature and independent lady. She was just growing up so fast! He remembers her when she could barely look into his eyes. Time flies so fast.

 

“I-I um…Marluxia?”

 

“Ugh, don’t mind him. A minor inconvenience happens and he throws himself on a downward spiral.”

 

Since nobody payed attention to him, he decided to isolate himself on the corner of the meeting room until one of them approached him and brought him out of his aching self-pity episode. The sound of his chair scraping against the floor was heard clearly as the blondes went silent at his abrupt action.  Yet, neither of them had tried to stop him.

 

Larxene launched into a simplified and frankly odd description of the Organization.  A tale of poor working conditions, low wages, unreasonable leadership and life-binding contracts. Of how they were invited under false premise, charging Xemenas with fraud and deception. As judge, jury and executioner she said their plan of action was obvious.

 

“Basically, we’re starting a _union_ and planning an all-out strike. Just not a passive *not working today strike*, but a sudden military attack!” Larxene giggled, spreading her arms out like an excited child. No doubt envisioning the chaos. Classic Larxene. Fond of smiling, giggling... and hurting people very badly.

 

Naminé was wide-eyed in surprise. She closed her mouth, then looked down before glancing back up to catch Larxene’s eye. "Oh, t-that’s interesting. We can implant negative memories about Xemenas or whoever we want Sora to end?”

 

A gleam entering Larxene’a eyes and a sly smile followed.  Initialing a debate regarding whether or not to solve all their problems with murder, in which Naminé was a horrified participant and Marluxia low-key petulant.

 

-

 

 

For better or worse, scheming become the bedrock upon which Larxene’s and Naminé´s friendship was founded. As long as the young artist followed Larxen's conversational leads, they got along well.  The older woman chatted in her animated way about books, violence and petty revenge schemes while Naminé show interest, empathy and drop in helpful suggestions.

 

The smiling siren was not the worst of role models. Possessing a lot of power, intelligence and wit. Although she doesn't bother to do it often, she could seem polite and friendly if she wanted to. But she also got off on people's pain, misery and anger. And frequently behaved in a reckless manner he did not want Naminé to copy.

 

Once they had teamed up for a reconnaissance mission in a palace and they ran into some trouble. He remembered the blonde sizing up the distance between two balconies and saying, ‘Probably,’ which, once appraised, had been enough for her to jump like a hooligan.

 

As a man of dignity and unbending principle, Marluxia flat out refused to follow her. Electing instead to pose as a foreign diplomat for weeks. He attended a trial, negotiated a minimum price when trading fish mandible, arranged some false marriages and learned to play a flute.

 

He was digressing but the point is it wasn't hard to imagine Larxene corrupting her; he was kind of getting resigned to the idea. Nonetheless, she was oddly nice... in her own, manipulative sadistic way. She helped Naminé learn magic and martial arts.  Gave her potions when she got hurt, alongside plenty of verbal abuse.

 

She did not agree Marluxia´s concerns.

 

“You want to help her? Then stop acting like overprotective parent! Let her figure things out on her own.”

 

Apparently, Larxene could meddle without it hindering her growth. A fine example of hypocrisy. He would not give her monopole on molding Naminé.

 

Naminé was a studious apprentice.  Brimming with creativity and resourcefulness. She examined the keyblade wielder’s battles, analyzing him and his opponents. Even constructing multiple combat strategies. Hardworking, earnest and willing as she was; her natural talents fall woefully short of their own.

 

Her movements were clumsy and uncoordinated at best. A hazard to herself and others, at worst. She would acquire black eyes, bloody nose, frost blisters and mild concussion, to mention a few, before Larxene even started to attack her. Even then the girl would insist, with unsteady legs, that she could fight.

 

It is quite obvious from simply watching her that she dreaded the thought of disappoint them. Marluxia observed their training spars nauseous with worry.  The situation was dire when the resident sadist couldn’t enjoy someone’s misery.  

 

After another failure in spellcasting, it was obviously Larxene’s patience was running thin. Hurling snide remarks at the child until she noticed red-rimmed eyes and downcast expression. Larxene bristled. Empathy wasn't her thing. Marluxia gave her a look of reproach.

 

He wrapped an arm around Naminé shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Physical contact was something he was unaccustomed to give, but he could not stand seeing her so dejected. She sunk into the warmth of his side, weeping silently into his coat. “I-I keep making mistakes. Why do you even bother?”

 

~~Because I love you~~

 

“You will continue to make mistakes, as will I. The pain, confusion and regret are ours to own. Don’t be hard on yourself.”

Larxene scoffed at their display. Turning away and tilting her head in consideration, then she suddenly snapped her fingers. “Maybe we’re going on this the wrong way. Your powers manipulate elements that already exist, perhaps we should try a new approach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep writing more than I'm planning. Eh, I hope at least you all are happy to get so many updates. 
> 
> Again, reviews are fuels that brings this story further forward! I enjoy writing it regardless, but I am curious what you think! What is good? What could be better? I´m uncertain if the pacing is right. Or the characters. Let me know:D


	7. Naminé

_“Maybe we’re going on this the wrong way. Your powers manipulate elements that already exist, perhaps we should try a new approach.” Larxene let out a gleeful chuckle, making Naminé worried._

_The young girl nestled her head against Marluxia’s shoulder. Briefly thinking she would’ve liked to fuse together with him, and have his gentle attention envelop her at all time, never leaving her lonely. After giving her a few soothing head pats, his tenor voice rumbled kindly in her ear. “Tomorrow. We´ll continue this tomorrow.”_

 

Sadly, “we” meant only her and Larxene.

 

There had been a loud knock on her door, that jolted the blonde from sleep early morning. Drowsy, she stumbled out of bed, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, knowing that only Marluxia would be polite enough to knock. The tall pink-harried man greeted her with an apologetic smile, eyes lit with warm fondness, before asking if he could come in. A pleasant and courteous gentleman, when you ignored his occupation and ambitions.

 

Naminé stifled a yawned.

 

Due to the ambiguous promise in Larxene’s words, her night had been spent restless. Multiple times she had simple laid awake, pensive about everything, and content with nothing.  But it’s just as well; sleep had never been a refuge.

 

As per their usual routine, Marluxia scanned the room for new art additions he could offer compliments on, while Naminé tidied up. She frequently placed her newest pieces partially obscured from view, yet Marluxia never failed locate them. Thus, providing Naminé with more joy then she could express. He never commented on her childishness, only indulging and spoiling her more when she displayed it.

 

“A dahlia…. very lovely.” He said with a far-off expression. Then, he looked at her with a small smile, as if sharing a secret. “A very graceful Dahlia, I would say.”

 

Naminé did not smile back. Couldn’t, not when his eyes held a hint of pleading.  A beseech to keep his head above water, as though _she_ wasn’t the tide that drowned him. His smile slipped away and he cleared his throat. Back to reserved formality, he explained that he would be leaving the castle for a short while and could not join her training.  “Larxene will be instructing you alone. She will be waiting on you on the first floor about an hour.”

 

“ Oh. I see.” She nodded her head a bit, disappointment evident on her face.

 

 

Had Marluxia been better at reading her, he would have seen the anxiety in her eyes, almost causing her to pace, it was quelled through sheer stubbornness, for she knew not if it truly was warranted. The savage nymph had never hurt her, well, not permanently. Still, the nagging voice in the back of her mind spoke of nothing but doom at the thought of being alone with her. But much to her relief ~~(dismay)~~ Marluxia’s usual perceptiveness to her feelings were considerably dulled when it came Larxene. He was utterly convinced they were the best of friends.

 

 

Never one to idly watch her sadness, Marluxia gestured for her to sit down. Confused she obliged, her eyes following him as he walked behind her. Head tilted up, she spotted amusement dancing in those vibrant green eyes and with the same secretive smile, he asked.  “May I fix your hair?”

 

 

-

 

 

The first Naminé touched paper it felt like her mind was invaded and directed without her conscious output.  An incredible compulsion took over her and her hand began to move instinctively to the right spot, building a new picture of a place she had never seen before. Of people, she had never meet, yet knew better than she knew herself. It was like a design written in her mind, a blueprint of another life, stored in hollow vessel.

 

When she broke from her trance, she noticed that she was drawing with her own blood. In a flash, Vexen backhanded her so hard that she fell back and hit her head against the desk, furious at seeing blood on his notebook, he launched into a rant. Sharp pain lanced through her head, drowning out most of the scientist’s yelling.

 

On the other side of the room, the golden eyed man who found (captured, imprisoned, hurt) her, stepped out from the shadows. He advanced slowly, his slow pace belied the speed he was capable of, picking up her picture. The creases on Vexen’s high forehead grow deeper as the man sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he hastened to obey.

 

" _Indeeed_...What a most interesting discovery."

 

For a while they experimented with her blood.

 

She didn´t feel enough back then, not really, but she might have felt something close to hatred towards her drawings. Being alone and surrounded by memories where all she saw was friends talking to each other, laughter and happy lives, made her feel lonely—it was pure agony.  She gazed through the window of another’s life, knowing she didn’t belong, there was nowhere she belonged.

 

For she was not a person, she more of a blank canvas, having no substance within, _but_ that was why she was easily filled with other’s memories.

 

She was insignificant, _she_ didn’t exist in anyone's heart, but she could.

 

 

-

 

 

Naminé arrived early to their meeting spot. The stairs to first floor were far away from her room and she dared not be late. The training-room, she assumed it was the one they’re going to use, was virtually empty except for a few stacked boxes. No Larxene in sight.

 

She sat down, leaning against the wall closes to the entrance and stared at the floor. Dreading the day in store for her.

 

According to Marluxia, she looked utterly endearing; her blond hair was pulled back into a braid, tied with a red ribbon. He looked down at her with absolute adoration and Naminé would yearn to see that look again for the rest of her existence.  Remembering how he gently ran the brush through her hair, smoothing the tangled strands, made her feel calm and at peace.

 

Larxene came unceremoniously in, smiling cheerfully and excited. Naminé’s ears perked up at her approach, like a prey being alerted to a predator prowling about. Choking down her fear, she quickly stood up, drawing Larxen’s attention.

 

Something flashed beneath the surface of the smiling siren’s expression as she took in Naminé’s new hairstyle. She tilted her head and stretched her hands forward, pretending to take picture. “Click.”

 

Naminé could only blinked at her in bewilderment as she continued to circle her, taking `pictures´, mumbling “cute, cute, cute” with a manic grin. She was so lively and full of energy that it dawned on the artist that Larxene was beautiful. Short flowing golden locks, ivory skin and piercing eyes of green.

 

_I want to sketch her._

 

The novelty of that thought stunned her. Fingers shaking lightly.  Too soon, Larxene stopped. The older woman patted her head and suggested they start their training.

 

 

-

 

Naminé ran some lapse, did numerous strength exercises, dogged most of Larxene’s knifes and finished by stretching out. Her body was on fire again, and sweat trickled down her face, chest moving up and down quickly from the rapid, breathless exertion.

 

She _hated_ training. No, she detested it with every fiber of her being. It was a daily exercise in humiliation and pain.

 

Larxene watched her with a bored expression. Her sadistic pleasure in this particular matter long expired. She clasped her hands together when Naminé collapsed to the floor. “That was slightly less pathetic than usual, now let’s move on to the fun magic!”

 

The floor partly swallowed Naminé’s groaned, but misery was the frequency best picked up by Larxene’s ears. “Tut-tut, Naminé, you disappoint me. What kind of a witch is incapable of magic?”

 

“…You right, I´m ready Larxene.” Naminé pulled herself up, knowing that with Larxene, one never knew when the next attack was coming and she was a sitting duck on the floor.  The knife wielder walked towards the boxes, taking out earth, water, ice and a bottle of something.

 

She spread the earth on the floor, laid the ice on the corner and carried the vase of water to her. Larxene’s instructions were clear; try to manipulate these elements. That was new approach.

 

Naminé slowly worked her way through the different elements. Finding indeed easier when she didn’t have to conjure them. After a strenuous effort, she managed to move water around and melt ice. Larxene nodded her approval.

 

Encouraged, Naminé put all her attention on making plants grow from the dirt on the ground. Marluxia would no doubt be pleased to hear she have acquired some gardening skills. Perhaps even proud.

 

She barely noticed the sound of Larxene spilling something on the floor behind her. Too frustrated with her own inability to grow pretty flowers, she was positive she had once seen Marluxia sprout one from his hair!

 

Without warning Larxene poured the liquid on her head. It soaked her hair and dripped to the floor. She winkled her nose at the foul smell and sticky consistence.  Wide eyed she looked up at Larxene, not comprehending what was going on. The savage nymph smiled as sweetly as she had when she called Naminé `cute´. Vibrating with an inner joy, she said.  “ Let’s put your powers to test.”

 

“Don’t.” Naminé tried to plead, but the words got stuck in her throat, choking her with fear.

 

With one last cheeky smile, Larxene leaped away, flickering a spark of fire towards where the liquid pool started.  Almost as though lightning had struck, the world became illuminated and fierce fire raced for her. Naminé, didn’t have a heart, but something thundered in her chest.

 

Desperate, she summoned all her strength, all her powers to make the flames stop. Flailing her arms in the air she begged. Please, please, please, please! Don’t let me burn alive. Just stop, please, stop, please stop. Repeating it like a chant or a mantra.

 

Yet, it only gained speed and force.  All Naminé efforts achieved was increasing the fire. Scorching flames consumed everything around her. The smoke filling her lungs with ash before the fire reached her. Too quick, too ferocious for her to escape. Flames licked her feet, melting her boots into her flesh.

 

For perhaps a split second the pain was postponed, the shock protecting her until she shattered like glass. She shut her eyes in anguish and strained her vocals but nothing came out, still her body shook with screams. Just before she lit up, cold, delicious ice covered her. Frost chased away the cruel flames. 

 

Abruptly, her legs gave way beneath and body wracked with raw sobs and she shook like a leaf. Relief consumed every cell in her being. She could for the moment, endure physical pain, she could ignore that it was impossible to see where her boots ended and skin started. She could overlook the acid taste in her mouth and dampness in her pants.

 

Sharp footsteps echoed behind her. Her tormenter and savior kneeled at her side.. Then, very slowly, Larxene pulled Naminé closer to her, wrapping her arms around the small girl. Her embrace was warm, soft, yet strong. Drained, the young girl inching her nose a little nearer to Larxene’s neck, breathing in the scent which was nothing like the smoke. Larxene smelled like the aftermath of a thunderstorm, summer rain with a metallic edge. Larxene hummed soothingly, running her finger through Naminé’s hair. “Hush, hush. I would never allow harm come to you.”

 

The savage nymph plucked out the red-ribbon and throw it in the fire. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, I had to much fun writing this. What do guys think? Did you like Naminé's pov? Do you want Larxene's? Please comment! It makes me very happy:D


	8. Chapter 8

Marluxia had always liked butterflies.

 

Spring would arrive, advancing with warmth and sunshine one day and heavy rainfalls the next. Trees budded with leafs and blossoms, the air vibrated with bird song and they raced around barefooted. Then, one would hear the sounds that have been absent throughout the winter; crickets rubbing their wings together, katydids singing and the steady buzz of bees.

 

But it was the butterfly, the flower of the sky, Marluxia adored. Intrigued by their grace and beautifully colored, intricately patterned wings, he decided early on to start a collection. Countless days were spent studying their habits, weaknesses and beauty. Finally, he found one whose loveliness outshone all before it, wings radiant green.  He followed it, light on his feet and jar ready. The soil was still wet and he felt the dampness seeping through his pants, but none of that mattered when he captured it.  Marluxia stood back, satisfied with his work, before returning home excited.

 

He handled it with the utmost care. Every step was cautiously measured, so that the jar shift as little as possible. And yet, the butterfly, fragile as it was, battered itself against the jar wall. Leaving a broken mess for him to cry over.   For a child, broken toys meant broken hearts.

 

Later he learned that the best way to kill butterflies was to pinch their thorax between his thumb and forefinger. Afterwards, he could fold their wings over their back and slip them into an envelope. They quickly become brittle after dying, so he kept the mounted butterflies in tightly closed boxes away from direct sunlight to prevent fading. It was also important that they were held in low-moisture conditions to prevent mold growth.

 

~~Maggots, flecks of bloated white nestled within her mangled flesh.~~

 

 

 

These memories came to Marluxia in a blinding flash when he saw half-frozen Naminé curled up in Larxene’s lap.

 

After commanding Vexen to subdue the fire and evacuate anything important, Marluxia had set out to find his two troublemakers. Casting blizzard and aqua splash, he _literally_ walked through fire for them. Eventually, he located one room which didn’t have flames spurting out of it and the graceful assassin raced there, furious and with every intention to scold Larxene.

 

None of that mattered now as the world once again narrowed down to one person.

 

The room she was in was surprisingly dark, contrasting greatly with the ghostly paleness of her face. She looked like a porcelain doll—one that would that shatter if it fell. Messy golden strands flow down her back, lit up by the dying embers on the floor. A halo of light crowned her head, but it was misery that radiated out of her. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and tear-stricken cheeks.

 

Isn't sad when an angel cries? Life is too cruel for such delicate creatures. They broke too easily.

 

“Naminé.” He said called out.

 

Her head snapped towards him. Eyes lilting up the moment they fell on him, her smile one of relief, and she tried to wiggle free. However, the arms around her tighten, yanking his attention partly to Larxene.

 

Like a child clutching her favorite toy, she hugged Naminé to her chest, selfishly keeping what was not hers. From the way she looked at him, eyes boring into his very soul, Larxene seemed like she _knew_ exactly what he wanted and why. So, confident and unruffled, that it rooted him to the spot.

 

“Give her to me.” He ordered anyway.

 

A soft muffed sound escaped the squeezed Naminé. The young girl put her hands on Larxene and tried to push her away. The action made Marluxia smile. Soon, he inwardly promised, very soon.

 

Just before he proceeded to more…proactive measures, the smiling siren loosened her grip and let out an exasperated sigh. Obediently, she wrapped one arm around the small girl ‘s back and hook the other under her knees. Ignoring Naminé’s loud protested, Larxene stood up carrying her like a bride. Blush seared through the artist’s cheeks and she attempted to hide her face behind her black gloves.

 

Impatiently, Marluxia stretched out his arms, needing to hold her. Envisioning his cabinets of faded specimens, he felt the anticipation of raising his net, the memories infused with the sound of summer rain. Soon.

 

Except, Larxene didn’t hand her over. She walked passed him, barely sparing him a glance, heels clicking sharply on the burned floor. “Nah, I’ll get this little pyromaniac-“

 

“EXCUSE ME?” Naminé cried.

 

“Hush, dumbass. I’ll get her in bed. You can stay here and clean up the mess.” Casting a one last disdainful look around the scorched room before sweeping out of the entrance.

 

Leaving Marluxia’s hands nothing to grasp.

 

-

_“Is wrong to pluck flowers?” Asked the young girl with eyes painted the hue of the spring growth, vibrant green sparkling with curiosity and guilt.  She had recently taken up the habit of sympathize with all that was glossed over, neglected and alone._

_-_

_“What if no one likes me Marluxia?”_

_-_

_She just stared at the ground and shuffled her feet. Not saying anything despite having called out his name.  Marluxia glanced at his cloak, he would have to run to arrive at time, she wasn’t saying anything._

_~~Stay. You hopeless fool, don’t you dare leaving.~~ _

_“Later. I have to run.”_

_-_

He awoke without warning, gasping for air and stumbling out of bed. The floor caught him hard and fast, embracing him with cold. He dug his nails into his scalp till he drew blood, but to no avail; his mind continued to tear itself to pieces. Remorse he didn’t understand etched at his. He laid amid millions of forgotten memories; painful, precious and perilous. Merely the tip of the iceberg scratched him and he sunk down to an ocean of madness.

 

Before he knew it, there was screaming, his screaming, yet the sound seemed so distant.

~~I’m sorry. I'm sorry so sorry that I let you down~~

Time marched forward. How long he laid there was a mystery, but the knowledge that he needed to pick himself up was apparent. Slowly he arches his back off the ground, throat sore and head throbbing in pain, still he stood back up again with his trembling limps.

 

A new day was beginning and he could not spend it crawling on the ground.

 

 

-

 

 

Marluxia was the keeper of the castle. Which meant he had to carry on his responsibilities. He could not have breakdowns. He could not be weak. And he could definitive not fail. Repressing melancholy, he applied the empirical tested method of AIR; Avoid, Ignore, and Repress.

 

While he performed the latter two remarkably well, the former faced a mighty foe.

 

Avoiding Naminé, despite being the proper thing to do for her safety and his sanity, was a herculean task.  Stubborn was never a word he thought he would apply describing the quiet blonde, but she proved to be the embodiment of the concept.

 

She clung to him as though her life depended on it. Following his steps like a shadow and appeared next to him each morning.  In fact, she crept up on him so skillfully, he half-suspected her of having mastered his secret invisible teleporting technique, and was subsequently employing in an ironic revenge scheme.

 

He could imagine her sitting on an armchair, legs crossed and fingers intertwined over one knee, leaning forward and say with very Larxene-like grin; “It seems the hunter has become the hunted, wouldn’t you agree Marluxia?”

 

Speaking of the savage nymph; Marluxia completely blamed her for this situation. Always a contrary creature, she frequently ran off and left them alone together. Never staying for long, suddenly having no problems giving him Naminé.

 

Finally shaking off the artist—she was busy engaging in a futile attempt to paint over the burnt walls— he proceeded to confronted Larxene to resolve the situation.

 

“You ruined a perfectly stable child, that’s what you’ve done. Have you looked at her? She has separation anxiety!” He accosted her while she was practicing her knife throwing.

 

Larxene rolled her eyes, not pausing her deadly throws at the suspiciously Demyx-like training doll.” Just how long do you intend to pester me about this? I apologized, it’s in the past. And no harm was done.”

 

“First of all, it was last week. Secondly, blaming the absent Axel does not qualify as an apology.  And thirdly, Naminé is still troubled by it.” He emphasized his points by waving three finger at her face.

 

Larxene pushed him aside and let out a dramatic and unnecessary long groaned.  “She is fine.”

 

“Oh, then how would you explain her staying up all night crying?" Marluxia crossed his arms. Sleep eluded her, nightmares plagued him, with each night they fell deeper and deeper into despair. One day, Marluxia might not wake from it. How can he ask her to stop following him when he fears she'll disappear any moment? Larxene was the only person he trusted her with, but obviously, she must have done something to make Naminé avoid her.   

 

Larxene abruptly stood still. There was a short pause, where she stared at him. Even as her voice dripped sarcasm, her deadpan expression doesn't change. “I don’t know, maybe because the pink grim reaper is skulking around her bedroom?”

 

Maluxia opened his mouth to defend himself., but with lightning speed, she placed a finger over his mouth. “Don’t say it because you were worried or needed to know she was okay. I’ll just pretend you were planning to mow her down into tiny little pieces, and bury her remains in a shallow grave, you know? It’s less creepy that way.”

 

For one moment, Marluxia felt stunned, week-long build-up of emotions deflated out of him like air of a balloon. And he didn’t know what to think. Before he knew it, he began to chuckle slowly and warmly. The muscles in his body relaxed. After all that had occurred, all the confusion and shame, he felt relief.  A moment later her laughter joined his, sweet and easy, like the sound of bells.

 

They laughed till their ribs hurt. Their mirth was genuine, and if Marluxia's laughter had hints of hysteria, Larxene was considerate enough to overlook it.

 

All the anguish of the past few days was blown away by the storm called Larxene. This energetic, impossible and bright woman. Always so unapologetic herself and steadfast. Catching him before he even knows he is falling.

 

He is _blessed_ to have met her.

 

Of course, Axel choose to finally return in the middle of Marluxia’s epiphany. Apparently, the keyblade wielder had just entered the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter; Sora is in the house.  
> I feel like could continue to write nothing but Marluxia, Naminé and Larxene fooling around, but i do have a plot I want to come around to. Thanks so much for the kind comments and kudoes. I excited to hear what you think of this chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

The keyblade wielder really had _just_ stepped into the castle, but Axel did not see it fit to inform them of that right away. Instead, the lanky red-head sauntered past them, ignoring Marluxia immediately demand for a status report, twisted the chair by the potion-shelf and sat down. Then, facing them with his chin and arms resting on the chair’s back, he said. “What? No ´Hello Axel, how have you been´? I’m truly hurt.”

 

Marluxia gave that comment the snort of derision it deserved. From the corner of his eyes he could see Larxene biting back a grin at his annoyance. Despite her somewhat treacherous amusement, she pulled out her knifes from the training doll and glided to his side. She traced a single, mock tear down her cheek. “Ooh, who knew you had feelings? If the pain is too much, I can finish the job.”

 

“If the alternative is to be in your delightful company, then by all means; try.”

 

Smiling sinisterly, she said. “Maybe we’re both being too hasty, I have it on good authority that its only by the way of pain one arrives at pleasure. Perhaps our interactions need a few adjustments.”

 

Marluxia was uncertain if she was threatening or flirting with Axel, but he definitive knew he had enough of this. He interrupted with the hint of a drawl. “As much as I enjoy listening to your…. thought-provoking tête-à-tête, I believe a change of location will be beneficial. After all, Axel must have something to report since he abandoned his assignment?”

 

The last words were accompanied by a pointed glare. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but apparently, the opposite was true when lacking a heart. Axel sighted before obediently standing up and walking towards the meeting room adjoining Larxene’s training area. Marluxia turned his head to discreetly remind the blonde to keep her guard up. Axel was to be treated as guilty till proven innocent. Guilty of what Marluxia hadn’t quite decided, but he was leaning against being a untrustworthy cretin. However, he was greeted with a disturbing sight.

 

“Please tell me you’re not checking out Axel’s ass.” Marluxia hissed. “Lie if you have to.”

 

Larxene giggled and walked ahead of him.

 

 

As soon as they were all seated around the oval table, Marluxia ordered Axel to update them. This time the pyromaniac went straight to the point. “I have returned because the keyblade wielder is finally here.”

 

The pink haired man barely resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. That’s the type of action that showed anxiety and stress, none traits he wished to advertise, not to Axel. However, inwardly seething, he wondered what purpose sending Axel to monitor the keyblade wielder had, if he received these news in such short notice.

 

“And where exactly is here?” Marluxia asked, hoping that Axel only meant here in this world.

 

“They should already have entered the castle by now.” Axel said unapologetic. “Interesting kid, that one. I would have introduced myself, but I’m still not updated on exactly what the plan is.”

 

Great, Marluxia thought, exchanging a frustrated look with Larxene.

 

Under the scrutiny of the other organizations members, they would have to manipulate the keyblade wielder in a way that undermined the organization, without it being perceived as an act of treachery. They would need to strike a delicate balance between being competent and bungling operations.

 

A brilliant plan was devised earlier by the three of them: There was no need for all of the keyblade wielder’s memories to be rewritten, no, only a few needed to be altered. For with Xemnas’ heartless making a ruckus of the boy’s life and best friend, well, not much further motivation was necessary.

 

But if the plan was to succeed, there was something else they also needed; Vexen’s side project Replica Riku. The one created from the real Riku's data, could suit their purpose if made stronger by Naminé infusing memories. She had not yet started the manipulation process and now the keyblade wielder was upon them.

 

Wait…. A shiver rippled through Marluxia and dread locked his stomach tight. The keyblade wielder and his companion was entering the first floor, where _Naminé_ still was. Where he **left** her. Where he left her to paint walls, where she was alone, where she could be hurt.

 

~~Blonde hair was scattered in multiple places, stained with dried blood.~~

 

For a short moment, his mind was mired in fog, before anger broke through.

 

Red hair more vivacious then fire donned Axel’s head and the pyromaniac sparked his fury. Marluxia’s eyes filled with spiteful rage and he let the dark feeling in his chest thrive for a minute. Useless imbecile! If even a single strand of her hair was harmed because of this, he’ll drown that flame-head in a heart-torn world of nothingness! He will scatter his torn remains to the empty winds.

 

Only Larxene grasping his knee under the table stopped him from attacking Axel. Always attuned to his moods, she quickly sensed his aggravation and acted. Under the full force of her stormy green eyes, he felt a semblance of calm return to him, for they held a promise of support and retribution.

 

 “I see, then I must welcome our guests.” Marluxia said with as much cool as he could muster.

 

Axel leaned back in his chair, the right side of his lip tugged upwards creating a menacing smirk. “Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”

Marluxia walked away with determined strides, even but quick paced. With one short glance behind, he nodded at Larxene. Not completely sure what he was requesting, but trusting she would deliver. She dipped her head in responds; Leave it to me.

 

Then he teleported.

 

-

 

_“Flower only live for a brief time. There is nothing wrong with gathering them to celebrate and share their beauty; for they fade away for too quickly.” Marluxia answered in what he hoped was a comforting tone._

_Her eyes became glacier blue under the sheen of water and he felt lost._

-

 

Huge black scorch marks marred the surface that would have normally been polished concrete. Many of the doors were badly charred in the fire, leaving gaping holes, and there was blacken damage to the walls. One wall had white paint-splattered on it. Half-finished and without the artist he had last seen there.  

 

He ran through every room he can by, re-checking the ones he had already searched, desperately yelling her name. As he sifted and sorted his eyes were constantly on the look-out for any gleam of blonde hair. The first floor was enormous, with many quarters unexplored and secrete entrances. Naminé rarely wandered, and yet time, she was nowhere near where he left her. He was getting closer to the main hallway that lead both straight to the top and the exit.

 

The scythe wielder had always been proud of his composure, his nerves never quick to fray, even-tempered at every challenge. Yes, there was a time he thought himself unmovable, so confident was he.

 

What a mockery Naminé made of those qualities. This feeling she evoked dug into his bones and made him crumble to pieces. What right did she have to worry him to this degree? What right had she to obliviate all his defenses? He could see now, plain as day, that none was worthier to be the mistress of Castle Oblivion.

 

Not willing to waste any more time, he opened a portal to the entrance hall, dreading what sight awaited him there. Questioning why she would venture there at all.

 

 

-

 

“Gawrsh, wait a second Donald! We shouldn’t fight her, right?”

 

"What's the big deal? She took away our magic. We can’t just let that slide!” The duck answered with a squeaky voice. By the way he was waving his staff, he was more than willing to engage in a physical brawl to compensate for his magicless status.

 

The all three had their weapons out and pointed towards the same direction. Although bent in a fighting stance, the keyblade wielder emitted indecisiveness. From Marluxia’s vantage point behind them he could finally take in the sight of his future pawn. He looked far too young and harmless to carry the weight of the mighty keyblade. Nothing like the images Marluxia had conjured up in his head, though he could see Naminé had captured his likeness in her art. The fact that the boy was considering harming her was enough to evoke Marulixia’s animosity. He readied himself to attack.

 

In contrast to the unbalanced trio, the hooded Naminé appeared confident and mysterious, she blocked the exit of the castle. With a hint of dramatic flair, she spread out her hands. "In this place, to find is to lose and to lose is to find. That is the way in Castle Oblivion."

 

She was _quoting_ him.

 

Marluxia felt his jaw drop in amazement. This what not what he expected. He came here to intervene; to rescue her, but Naminé’s calm disposition piqued his curiosity. Not to mention she seemed to be emulating him. How could he not be flattered? If he moved his invisibility illusion would break. He would never know how this would play out.

 

 

Perhaps, he should wait and see how Naminé handled this. After all, he could strike them down if needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, I did not plan to spend the weekend writing, but the responses to last chapter made me so happy I couldn't stop. I hope you guys like this chapter. Nothing makes me happier than hearing your thoughts, so please share them :D


	10. Chapter 10

“This is Castle oblivion?” The keyblade wielder asked. Then, surprisingly enough, he lowered his weapon. Marluxia could actually _hear_ the big smile in his voice when he spoke again. “That’s great! We have been looking all over for this place.”

 

Why would the trio search for this castle? Marluxia felt his mind surge with perplexity. They should never even have heard about it. This was…. unexpected to say the least. And he did not like unexpected things, it rarely meant anything good.

 

His dear Naminé tilted her head to the side, her face-expression was masked underneath the darkness of her hood, however her voice betrayed confusion. “You have been looking for it?”

 

“Yeah!” All three-responded excited. They exchanged happy glances, the Royal Magician bounced up and down with eagerness and the knight clasped the boy’s shoulder. Laughing like idiots, this description was especially true for the tallest member, they lowered their weapons and looked at Naminé in anticipation.

 

Marluxia had no idea what they were celebrating and frankly found their display inappropriate. He took full offence on behalf of the novice Naminé, who’s debut was being made a complete mockery of, and was tempted to step in. Someone had to be held accountable for having flared this up.

 

Wait—Ah.

 

Gradually the look of bafflement was replaced by the slightest of frown as Marluxia mind successfully puzzled together the only feasible explanation. And right on cue the keyblade wielder said. “That guy—with a black coat just like you— told to come here. He said we would find what we’re looking for. We asked if that meant Riku was here-“

 

“And the king! Me and Donald here have been looking for him for a really long time.” The knight, Goofy if he remembered right, interrupted. The keyblade wielder nodded his head so fast that it was a wonder he didn’t faint out of dizziness.

 

“Yeah! They are our best friends. Last time we saw them, they were in really big trouble. And we’ve been worried sick! Anyway, that guy suddenly popped up and told us to look for this castle. He said that there was someone here who would help us find what our hearts desired, that _she_ was the key to unlocking our most precious memories. I’m still not sure what he meant by the last bit, but you’re the one that can help us, right?” The little monologue had gone on so long that the keyblade wielder was breathless by the end of it.

 

Axel - the bane of this operation – certainly took his liberties speaking to them. Had the man no intentions to try fostering their trust? The red-head must have known this would displease him and Larxene. Yet, he made no attempts to hinder Marluxia from finding this out, even encouraging him to seek out Sora, all while acting so nonchalantly. Was he merely faking it to pull the wool over their eyes? Although to what purpose eluded him.

 

Marluxia’s hands itched for his scythe, thinking it was time to put an end to this, but before he could act, Naminé started to slowly walk towards the trio.

 

He could hear the rustle of her coat as she bobbed a curtsy. Paused in that theatrical pose she spoke softly. “He spoke the truth. Sora, Donald and Goofy; I’m happy to meet you, I hoped I would, at least once.”

 

Her head snapped up, somehow conveying a sense of severity, and she pulled out a card from her sleeve. “But what you seek lies beyond this door. I’m afraid you must venture deep into your memories, for they are the crucial to reuniting with those you hold dear.”

 

His precious little performer proceeded to throw the card, but as fate would have it: Larxene’s lethal lessons stuck with her, and the card flew right into the keyblade wielders’s eye.

 

“GAAAH, why?”

 

“SORA!”

 

“…I meant to do that.” Naminé managed in a shaky voice. “Like I said: To lose is to find. For the insight I offer you, I’ll momently take your vison.”

 

“Well said! Pick up the card to open the door. And beyond it, a new world.” Marluxia said as he appeared behind Naminé. He put his hand gently on her shoulder, pulling her closer, shielding her from the hostile glares of the royal servants.

 

A portal of vibrant hues of blue and purple erupted to existence and swallowed them into fuming darkness. So, they disappeared, leaving a startled trio.

 

 

-

 

 

Despite being named the corridor of darkness, the pathways between worlds was brightly lit up by a whirlpool of light. Like brilliantly white sunlight through thin mist, a sliver glow covered the surface, giving the place an eerie feel.  

 

Amidst the tunnel devoid of boundaries, only Naminé’s anxious fidgeting broke the silence. She glanced up his way biting her lips, a nervous habit Marluxia began to understand, but she said nothing.

 

Contemplating Axel’s actions left him briefly inattentive to her uneasiness. But when he returned her glance he didn't have to try to smile, it just came instinctively. “Now, what possessed you to confront the keybalde wielder by yourself?”

 

She mumbled something unintelligible.

 

“Speak up.” He said coolly but not unkindly, her actions had caused him a great deal of concern.

 

 “I wanted to be useful.” I failed, went unsaid, but lingered in the air. Her eyes downcast as though in shame.

 

Marluxia thought it was the strangest thing he ever heard. Naminé didn’t need to be anything but herself. All he wanted was for her to exist, he realized this now. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Noticing that her ribbon was missing. He would have to give her a new one, maybe two.  “I prefer you to be safe.”

 

Always.

 

Nothing was more important.

 

Before he completely gave into sentimentality, he cleared his throat and changed subject. “You performed very well out there. Larxene will no doubt be proud. In fact, I do believe you have earn yourself a title.”

 

“Title?”

 

“Yes, every member has one. To boost morale, I assume.”

 

She focused on him in interest, her previous gloom disappearing, and asked: “What is your title?”

 

Marluxia smiled with the self-assured smirk of someone well aware of his own worth. It was important to take pride in oneself. His appearance, work and title were all sources of great satisfaction for him. One day, his dear Naminé would feel the same. He would make sure of that. “The Graceful Assassin.”

 

A smile of delight grow on her face, much like a spring flower opening, sweet and delicate. “It suits you, Marluxia. Who gave you it?”

 

“Well, you know coincidentally, uh…me.”

 

It was the first time he heard her laugh. Louder than one would expect, she giggled through her nose, snorting adorably. He liked it. Such an honest expression of joy, the sound felt like a gift. It made him want to only say humorous things so that she would always be laughing. On noticing Marluxia’s intense stare, she tried to hide her giggles behind her hand.

 

 “How about The Bewitching Artist?” The corners of his mouth involuntarily turn upwards.

 

“It does have a nice ring.” Naminé eventually answered.

 

 

All good things come to an end. And as much as Marluxia wished to continue their joyful conversation, time was running short with the keyblade wielder in the castle. Seeing as she had a habit of getting into trouble without him, he figured it was prudent to take her along. Marluxia opened a portal straight to their destination. He leaned towards her, one arm behind his back while he offered her the other. “Shall we?”

 

 

It was time to fetch their replica.

 

 

-

 

 

Castle oblivion had twelve basements floors, but Marluxia had only visited three of them. The Replica lab was where Vexen supposedly spent most of his time. Built in the Chilly Academic’s image, or at least as cold and inelegant as him. The place was far from inviting.

 

They stepped out right inside its entrance, the door shut closed behind them.  A long hallway stretched out before them, with numerous water filled pods lining the walls. Half deformed bodies floated in them, their coal-black eyes shifted inside vacant sockets, intently following their every footstep; Judging. Begging. Or maybe they were just empty.

 

Naminé shiver in disgust next to him, but she didn’t look surprised. She had been here many times before.

 

The lab laid in almost complete silent. Only the sound of rising bubbles gave it a backdrop of noise. One large tub was left empty in the middle, with something inscribed at the bottom. He ran a finger over the frame, feeling its cool ridges and the layer of dust that clung to it: No. I.

 

Curious, he made a mental note to investigate it later.

 

At the end of the hallway, they turned left, right into a wider, shorter one. It led to an enormous room filled with bookshelves, microscopes and carefully labeled test tube.

 

Vexen stood up in alarm when he saw them. “Marluxia what is the meaning of this? You can’t barge in unannounced!”

 

“Oh? But I’m managing it quite easily, so apparently, I can.” Marluxia raised an eyebrow. “Don't fret, we’ll leave soon. Mostly because I don't want to linger here any longer than absolutely necessary. Just point us to the replica.”

 

“How impudent of you. Didn't we agree that I would inform you when it was ready? I hardly need you to get in the way of my success” Vexen said.

 

“Success? So, the replica is ready?” Marluxia said pleased.

 

Vexen grimaced, as if annoyed rather than in pain. In the end he gritted out: ”No.”

 

“Ah, my faith in your utter inadequacy as a scientist has been restored. Failure is all you can achieve. Good. I'd hate to think well of you.” Marluxia said while giving him a look of haughty disdain. He had expected to hear this, if Replica Riku had been ready, everyone in the castle would have been informed that by an overeager Vexen.

 

The blonde’s face turned blue with anger and his eyes nearly popped out. He slammed his fist down onto the desk and shouted venomously. “I will not endure this indignity! In this Organization, you're No. 11! I'm No. 4 and I will not have you speak to me this way. As if you can do a better job.”

 

“A better job? You sat the bar pretty low since you accomplished nothing. I’m sure Naminé can speed up the process.”

 

“Now you’re _allowing_ me to use her?” Vexen said sounding ridiculously offended.  

 

A slight frown creased Naminé’s brow but disappeared almost as soon as it come. Marluxia noticed and felt anger swell in him. That useless fool made her upset. And that was the breaking point of Marluxia’s patience. He opened his mouth to tear him to pieces, when he heard the sound of someone kicking a door open.

 

“Work, work, work! It that all you can think about? One day, I’ll leave this dump, go on a real adventure, and you will be stuck here with nothing but your books as company. Think about that. What will you do without my wonderful presence?”

 

"You mean beside celebrate?" Answered another voice, sarcastic and sharp; Zexion. “And how many times do I have to tell you to stop kicking the door? Reason really goes in one ear and out the other with you.”

 

Marluxia slowly turned his head towards the hallway. Naminé gasped in shock. Vexen stuttered something. Soon Marluxia’s disbelief turned to anger as he took in the sight of a sliver haired boy swaggering in with Zexion on his tail.

 

Surely his eyes were deceiving him. Surely, that was not the “unfinished” Replica Riku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Marluxia, he can't catch a break. So, I have been looking forward to present Replica Riku and Zexion. Let me know what you think! I love reading your comments.


	11. The Replica

Nixio, better known as Replica Riku, was no stranger to confusion.

 

From the moment he came into existence, in the cold laboratory floor, he was brimming over with curiosity. To begin with, he had a rather limited vocabulary, but according to Zexion, this did not hinder him from blabbering excessively. His questions ranged from somewhat reasonable to downright stupid. “I swear, there is some sort of disconnection between your mouth and brain.” Zexion had once said.

 

But Nixio couldn’t help, he did not understand why he exist. He did not know why he was not allowed to leave the basements. Or the complicated relationship and power plays between his only companions. His state of mind could be classified as one of almost continuous bewilderment.

 

This was not, despite popular belief (by this he means Vexen and Lexaeus), because he was dimwitted.  He was just _uniformed_ and no one ever told him clearly what his place was.

 

Vexen had high expectation. For him to be stronger, faster and smarter. And Nixio knew he could be all that and so much more.  Every day he went to training, pushing himself to work harder, to be better.  Even when he went to bed, all he could think about was exceling.  

 

But, he was having a bit of a hard time adjusting. Within the strict deadlines of this, well, whatever they want him to do, it proved a bit difficult to meet all the expectations. Especially, when he didn’t know what they were. One moment he was important, next minute he was background at best. And everything was 'need-to-know' and 'last minute' for some reason.

 

All he wanted was to make them proud. To be useful. To be important.

 

But instead, he found himself in the same place he always ended up— in disgrace.

 

Tense silence followed his arrival to the lab, Zexion became taut next to him, his eyes darting between the newcomers and Vexen. The scientist sank back in his chair and closed his eyes, while the pink haired guy glared at Nixio.

 

All this, pointed to that he had screwed up again. Though, he could not for the life of him figure out how. So, confused again, he asked.” Hey, what's up losers?”

 

Zexion face palmed, muttering “Why, why are you like this,” under his breath. Inwardly wincing, Nixio was truthfully wondering the same thing. How he wished the ground would open and swallow him up. Of all _stupid_ things to say. Judging by the pink haired man’s expression, he probably thought the words were provocative. Why else would he looked at Nixio with such undisguised contempt, as though his very existence offended him?

 

The tall man walked briskly towards him. As he drew closer, Nixio noticed he had a rather pretty face, almost feminine, with hair spikes that resembled flower petals. None of that dampened any of his intimidating aura, if anything, it added a sense of nobility to his presence.

 

He grabbed Nixio’s chin and forced him to meet his dark blue eyes. Nixio had to stiffened his knees to prevent them from quivering, his shoulders sagged down on their own, and he felt himself shrinking. After what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been longer than seconds, the man clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Not ready, you say.”

 

Letting go of his bruising grip on the teen, the man whirled around, his eyes narrowing as he fixed Vexen with a stare. “I must say, I did not believe you capable of such deception.” His voice soared and sank in leisurely, elegant measure. “To think you would _defy_ the Organization like this.”

 

Nixio let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Who was this guy? They told him that Vexen ran this operation. Well, Vexen had told him that, but Zexion never denied it beyond scoffing derisively. This guy was acting like he was in charge, like Vexen had to answer to him.

 

“I have done no such thing Marluxia! I simply saw no reason to offer my experiment when you have been monopolizing her.” Vexen gestured rudely at the girl next to Marluxia.

 

She was petite, with delicate features and pale blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, contrasting with her dark coat. Projected a queenly serenity, she gave Vexen an exact replica of Marluxia's earlier glare of contempt. She did not seem to think he was worthy her time.

 

Nixio felt genuinely fascinated. She did not look older than him, but was apparently considered important.

 

“-Do you have any idea how much time you have cost me?”

 

Perhaps, she was very powerful? He would love to have a new sparring partner. Zexion always preferred to read and Lexaeus did not know the meaning of restraint.

 

“Spare me the dramatics! The boy is mine and you will not touch him.”

 

They could be friends. Go on adventures together. They just had to convince Zexion to join first, Nixio did not really want to leave without him, even if he was a bit of a geek.

 

“I can inform our superior of your disrespect for his decree-” 

 

With her powers, Zexion’s brain and his leadership they would be invincible!

 

“ **Fine**.” Vexen spat. The scientist averted his eyes downwards, as though he could not bear to look at anyone of them. “Do what you want.”

 

Huh, sounded like they reached a conclusion. Nixio should probably have payed attention, especially seeing as the scary Marluxia was looking at him again. That little rise in the corner of his mouth let Nixio know that the man had won the argument. It sent shivers down his spine, but Nixio did not want to appear weak in front of them, so he puffed his chest out. They wanted him to come with them, right? He would not mind that, going out and seeing new places sounded great, even if Marluxia terrified him.

 

“Fortunately, Naminé can _rectify_ this situation, so that he can serve his purpose.”  Marluxia wore a gracious and majestic expression, like a king determining that a candidate was worthy of service. “She has already finished the script, all that needs to be done is press restart.”

 

“I would love to help, sir.” Nixio said with a forced grin.

 

Marluxia regarded him for a few more seconds, as though sizing him up, then he shifted a faintly amused gaze to Vexen. “Such a polite young man, though his powers of observation could need some work, not that it matters anymore.”

 

Vexen bristled, but did not respond.

 

Marluxia beckoned Nixio toward him with a quick hand movement. He moved to obey, but Zexion held him back with an iron grip on his shoulder. Startled, he looked back at his friend, who’s face was the epitome of stoicism, though his eyes were cold and bright with fury.

 

When Zexion finally spoke, his voice was controlled.  “No. This is deplorable. Nixio is not a tool you can use as you wish, Marluxia. He is now a member of this organization and you will have to treat him accordingly.”

 

“Oh? Have you developed an _emotionally_ attachment?” Marluxia put his hand over his heart. “How heartwarming. Don’t worry, we will take good care of him.”

 

Zexion’s upper lip curled in disdain. “Your obvious insincerity only underscores my abiding dislike for you. You might be the keeper of this castle, but I will not allow this.”

 

Nixio was beginning to get an inkling that Marluxia might not have his best interest in mind.

His friend was locked in a staring contest, challenging Marluxia’s authority, for his sake.  He felt incredible touched, to think Zexion cared that much, but also confused. Was the mission they wanted him for very dangerous? It not like he could have done something to make the man wish to harm him already, so it must be something else.

 

The tension was thick enough to choke on, yet neither men backed down, then only moments away from a violent outbreak, Naminé spoke. “Maybe we can reach an agreement…”

 

 

-

 

 

Nixio struggled to keep up with Marluxia’s long strides. Every sight was so enthralling, so new, but the top side was not all that different from the basement. Still, Nixio was just happy to be released from his confinement. First the top side, then the outside, next the world! He was brimming with excitement.

 

Now, if only Marluxia would slow down and let him catch his breath. In complete contrast to his own exhilaration, the man had turned sullen since he sent Naminé away. Not that Nixio was pleased she was gone either. That girl was _amazing._

 

Before leaving the basement, Zexion took him aside and told him to be wary of her. This, combined with how Marluxia softened when she spoke and Vexen’s anger for having been denied her company, helped Nixio understand that she was the most important member of this organization. Perhaps even the one in charge. Everyone had listen to her when she proposed they wait and see how he performed before deciding anything.

 

He would not disappoint her! In fact, this would allow him to show just how amazing he was. Then, he would earn everyone’s admiration and respect.

 

“Now, Replica, I hope you understand how generous we have been with you. I expect your utmost best and only success.” Marluxia said.

 

Nixio nodded eagerly, happy to be addressed. He had been worried the man would simply ignore his existence for the whole walk. “Yeah! Whatever you say, sir, you’ll see that I’m nothing short of amazing. And it Nixio by the way.”

 

“Nixio.” Marluxia repeated unimpressed.

 

Feeling a bit offended (his name was great), Nixio said. “It’s for No. II, you know, the second Replica.”

 

Marluxia looked back at him curious. “Who was replica number one?”

 

Nixio shrugged. “Never met her.” Seeing that he was losing Marluxia’s interest, he hurried and added the first thing that came to mind. “I wish I had! When you think about it, she is the only one that is like me. We would probably really get along, I mean, she is kind of like sister! Huh, I wonder what she is up to, do you think-”

 

Marluxia stopped abruptly, causing Nixio to crash straight into his back. The teen rubbed his injured nose and opened his mouth to ask something along the lines of ‘what the hell’, but the look on Marluxia’s face shut him up.

 

The man was ashen, lips almost blue and body trembling. He looked like his world has just been shattered. Like something inside of him had come undone. His eyes were wide, as though looking at something far away.  Almost robotically his hand rose upward and settled on Nixio’s shoulder. Sweat could be felt through the multiple layers of fabric between them and Nixio felt concerned.

 

Then, he violently shoved Nixio and sprinted away.

 

Laying on the floor Nixio was, once again, utterly confused.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you guys don't mind the name change: I personally liked Nixio. Thank you for all the comments so far! I absolutely love reading your thoughts and look forward to hear what you think of this chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

They lived in a cottage perched on a small hill.

 

It was a lovely building made of dark red bricks, a misshapen slate roof and a stone chimney. An old home-made picket fence enclosed a small garden with swathes of lawn, vegetables, herbs and frothy flower beds. Though it was nothing compared to the stunning flower fields around them, stretching as far as the eye could see. When the sun fell, it would cast its golden rays over the lush blossoms and a magnificent paradise would emerge. Calm sense of blessedness always accompanied that sight, one deeply cherished by the inhabitants of the cottage.

 

The inhabitants consisted of him, his grandma and- his little _sister_.

 

( ~~sister sister sister sister sister sister~~ ~~sister sister sister sister sister sister~~ ~~sister sister sister sister sister sister~~ )

 

They dwelt in the middle of the forest, far from civilization, with their closest neighbor a mile away and half a day's ride for supplies in the town. So, they had mostly each other as company.

 

His grandma was a kind, nurturing woman with soil consistently stuck beneath her finger nails and laughter lines from smiling easily. He loved her with all his heart. That wonderful woman that didn’t hesitate to take them in when tragedy stuck their parents. Her wizened features had softened into a comforting smile and she engulfed them in a warm hug.

 

He bawled uncontrollably from the top of his lung like a blaring siren, whilst his sister trembled quietly next to him, only occasionally letting in out a heartbreaking whimper. Their grandma raised her withered hands and stroked their heads.  He wrapped his arm into the crook of her elbow and looked up at her with grief he never thought would pass, but it did.

 

Life was hard, simple and sometimes mundane. But, life was good and happy, too.

 

Thick as thieves was the best description of him and his little sister. While he was the mastermind of most of their mischief, he could always count on her to keep quiet and join him.  His little fair-haired partner in crime was a scanty and adorable girl, with a smile sweeter than honey and a bony elbow he often found himself at the receiving end of.

 

 

(“Shhh!” He whispered to the small girl crying on the floor. He had not actually meant to hurt her. Darting nervous glances around he knew it was only a matter of time before grandma came back in and if his sister was still _crying_ , he gulped. No there had to be a way! “You can hit me back.”

 

Sniffling back tears, she did.)

 

 

Their grandma called them her “mischievous pair of kittens” and laughed of most their antics.  The older woman taught Marluxia all there was to know about gardening. She always kept seeds in the pockets of her housedress, scattering them everywhere, saying there was nothing more important than to plant.

 

The kitchen was the largest room in the house, his sister would often stand on the chair next to the sink and help washing the dishes. Whenever those two baked bread, Marluxia would smell it, no matter how far he had roamed in the forest and come running home.

 

His little sister was grandma’s favorite, the eye of her apple, she hung every drawing the blonde made on the wall. And Marluxia couldn’t even be resentful of that. After all, they were some very impressive drawings. He truly meant that objectively, not just ‘she is my little sister, so everything she does is adorable’ kind of way.  They weren’t some genetic doddles, they had character, charm and he was very, very proud.

 

He was less pleased by her slothful ways, as she would sometimes nap in the afternoons and shrink her chores. Gradma would just say “Let her sleep, she doesn’t need to clean right now.” And he would end up cleaning everything, while wallowing in the injustice.

 

One memory stood out among all. One so clear he almost felt like he was reliving the day.

 

It was the memory of his family venturing to the main town. They went twice or thrice a year, to get supplies they couldn’t grow in their garden. The siblings spent much of the year looking forward to these trips, nothing was more anticipated for them.

 

(Later, much later, a city girl with antennae hair would teasingly call him a country bumpkin. But that memory flashed by too fast for him to registered it.)

 

Always determined to look his best, Marluxia would spend much time adjusting his appearance, long enough to invoke his sister’s wrath. That day, she nagged insufferably and pushed him out of the bathroom. Her small hands mercilessly maneuvering him forward, while she mumbled. “Can’t you go any faster?”

 

Feeling rather vindictive he leaned backwards, forcing her to support most off his weight. She made a sound of protest before he fell onto her, crushing her against the floor. Outraged, she yelled. “You rotten brother!”

 

He laughed and laughed until grandma chased him of her.

 

His sister didn’t manage to stay mad at him for long. Big crowds overloaded her and made her very anxious, therefore she would cling to him or grandma throughout every town visit. He held her hand most of the day and made sure they visited every one of her favorites stores before leaving her and grandma to shop for clothes by themselves, in hindsight a bad idea.

 

He only did so because he wanted to buy grandma a gift, she had been unwell those past days, tiring easily and coughing. Echinacea tea had not helped, so he was hoped he could find some other remedies or at least something to lift her spirits.  In the end, he could only afford a simple tea set with dahlia pattern, her favorite flowers.

 

He waited on them at Fountain Square, a large plaza and fountain, which was a popular hangout spot for both residents and travels. His sister greeted him wearing the most disgusting pair of orange sweatpants mankind had made and a lime green sweater that crashed terrible with it.  Marluxia shuddered with horror, oh god, she was in public like that. Why did grandma allow this? Had she gone blind!

 

He admits, that telling his sister that he was not comfortable with being related to her was unnecessary cruel, but he did not think it warranted so much crying. Grandma made him apologize immediately, always quick to reprimand him, always quick to her favorite’s defense.  He threw his gift at her and held back tears.

 

On the carriage ride home, his sister offered him a bag of candies while apologetically saying. “There aren’t any red ones left. I ate them all”. His grandma taped together the broken tea set and put it on display and Marluxia flushed with shame. Maybe that was why he remembered that day so well, the shame, a feeling he would carry the rest of his existence.

 

That day was the last day all three traveled to town together.

 

They lost their grandma that year.

 

Sickness claimed her bit by bit, till she was no more.  Lying helplessly on the bed, she held out her gnarled fingers to him, he stumbled to her, desperate to hear her say everything would be okay. Her skin was cold—so cold Marluxia felt something inside him freeze. His dear grandma’s face twisted into a smile that never belong on her pale sagging face. A weak, drained smile that spoke of goodbyes. Numb, he stood still as her pale lips stretch over toothless gums and spoke her last words. “Take care of your sister.”

 

 

He wished he could say he did.

 

He wished he could say this was an inspiring tale.

 

One where he stood by his sister and was everything an older brother should be. That he assumed the caregiving role and selflessly sacrificed all his time for her. That he had to be dragged kicking and screaming from her side.

 

But what good would lying do?

 

He barely managed his own grief, heavy as it was, and he didn’t really try to comfort her.

 

They moved into an orphanage on the outcast of the main town. She hated it there. He felt indifferent most of the time. They both worked to be become something his memories failed to show, but he remembers it being an occupation shared with a lot of the residents. At first, he avoided his sister out of sorrow, but by the time he wanted to talk to her, he no longer remembered how to.

 

Their relationship was reduced to an exchange of superficial pleasantries. Speaking less and less till she became a stranger to him.  And then-

 

 

 

In present times Marluxia collapsed to the floor. Grief surged with every expelled breath, steadily increasing instead of being soothed by his long intakes of air. He did not want to remember more, he could not take it, if one more memory came he might never stand up again.

 

Slowly breathing hard, he dragged himself into a sitting position hand clutching his heart, it was beating so furiously Marluxia was certain it wanted to tear him apart. Maybe that was how he had lost it the first time.

 

Momentum and tunnel vision crafted from anguish lead him to Naminé’s room. He knocked on the door hard enough to leave bruises and waited. Running could be heard from the other side of the door before it was tentatively opened. The small blonde peered up at him with wide eyes.

 

His throat gurgled as he struggled to speak.  He gripped her shoulders and saw her face transform from concern to alarm. Finding his voice, he said: “Hello, sister.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This place seems like the proper place to end the chapter. So, what do you guys think? I felt a bit uncertain of this chapter, while it was easy to write, I wonder if I went too quickly over his memories. Anyway, I hope you like it.


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

Naminé sat facing him across the table.

 

It one of the few surfaces not covered in art supplies, though it had smudge of paint in the corner, indicating that even it didn’t escape the artistic mayhem. Grandma would have reprimanded her for creating such a messy room, probably Marluxia too for allowing it.

 

The thought almost brought a smile to his face but the cold silence snuffed it out. Despite his longing to reach out to his sister, there was a sense of ‘don't come any closer’ lingering in the air. Despair poured over his skin like a poison, seeped into his blood and paralyzed him.

 

He wanted to close the distance, to hug her or ruffle her hair. But Naminé looked so uncomfortable, pale as if her very blood was shrinking away from his presence. A knife thrust into his heart would have been less painful than this, but he refuses to let this fear get the best of him. He could not allow himself to use it as an excuse to not try.  

 

Once, he took their bond for granted, and in his naivety, he'd thought it would sustain itself without any effort from him. Never again. He shifted in his chair, straightening his back to gather his courage. “Sister.” He paused when he saw her flinch, taking a deep breath, he continued. “Naminé, as you know: When someone loses their heart, darkness within them break through and a heartless is made. If the person is particularly strong-hearted, then their body and soul stays behind in the form of a Nobody, instead of disappearing like they usually would.”

 

There was a rush of coolness that come when he spoke of facts instead of feelings. As if a spell had suddenly been lifted his usual poise returned.  He crossed his legs and intertwined his fingers over one knee. “We don't have hearts; therefore, we don’t feel emotions, but because we remember having them, we act as if we still possess them. Taking on the appearance of who we were before and we live as empty shell of what once was.”

 

Biting her lips, Naminé nodded. As always, she paid careful attention to his words and for a moment that was enough to soothe the aching in his heart. Mirroring his posture and meeting his eyes, she spoke. “Yes, and that is why your organization works towards Kingdom Hearts. To be whole.”

 

Stating the obvious was working wonders for both their nerves it would seem, and yet he would have to shatter the illusion of status quo they both were momently upholding.  Things had already changed and he would have to dare to address it again.

 

He spoke the words in a lower voice as if he did not want them to be heard. “True, that is what I have been told, but the truth is Naminé….I did not have all of my memories, only bits and snippets, enough to vaguely remember how I was. Unimportant, useless facts that paled in comparison to what I just remembered. “

 

He stood up, walked towards her and placed his hands on the table and her chair. She sat perfectly still while he smiled uneasily. “Naminé I remembered _you_. My dearest, only sister.”

 

She turned away, but not before he saw pain in her eyes, her desire to flee the conversation written all over her face. But his words did not surprise her, meaning that she had not forgotten him.

 

Marluxia felt his heart shoot up to his throat and bile rising in his mouth. It was no wonder she was displeased with him. He who discarded her in his past life and then forgot all about her existence. How much pain have he caused her? He thought about their past interactions, his actions and words, finding them inadequate and unforgivable.

 

He knelt down beside her, brushing her hair from her face and  cupped her cheek. His voice cracked. “I know that no apologies could ever make things right, but please, believe me when I say that even when my memories of you were gone I missed you.  I felt an emptiness that was only eased when I found you again. I’m so grateful to be with you again, the person most precious to me.”

 

Naminé pulled away from him.  A look of disgust spread across her face and Marluxia felt a little more broken inside. Her shoulders trembled slightly, and then she began to positively shake. Marluxia reached out to her again, whispering her name like a strained prayer, but she pushed his hands away abruptly and stood up.

 

“That is a _lie_. I’m not precious to anyone. These words you say mean nothing.”

 

“No, it not. Naminé, I’m so sorry, I love you too much to- ” He said horrified.

 

“STOP! Please, I beg you stop.” An ugly grimace twisting her face. She stifled her tears and brought her chin up, proud and strong, and Marluxia adored her for it. “I want to be alone Marluxia.”

 

With the back of his hand he wiped his eyes, now was not the time or place for tears, not when his sister was putting on a brave face. Not when she when she was doubting her own worth. Not when he was the one at fault.

 

“Sister, I can't possibly leave you, not again. I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I'll do all I can to earn it. More importantly, please do not mistake my blunders for a fault with you. You are nothing but a wonderful sister.”  

 

Naminé let out a sound, half giggle, half sob;” I wish that was true, can I pretend that it’s true?” She shook her head. “Marluxia….If you truly care for me, give me some time alone. I have a lot of work to do.”

 

Marluxia, though it hurt him to do so, abided by her wishes.

 

 

-

 

 

He walked down the hallways in a haze, only muscle memory keeping his posture elegant and proud. He felt utterly miserable. His distraughtness increased with every step. How could it have gone so terribly?

 

He kept telling himself to give her time, over and over until it was all jumbled in his head. And yet, he could not shake of the feeling that something was wrong. That no matter what he did he would not get back his sister. It was ridiculous, she was right here in this castle, they could work it out.

 

If only path before them wasn’t such an uncharted territory. A nobody regaining his heart? For it was without a doubt his heart beating furiously under his chest. Or for family members to find each other, that was some coincident, no, only fate would have brought them together.

 

Either way, he felt clueless. All his previously plan seemed some unimportant, taking over the organization, manipulating the keyblade wielder, etc. But it was not like he could just quit, not on his plans or his membership. He supposes he could just try to figure it out one step at a time, but he could not be so blasé when Naminé was involved.

 

Abruptly, Marluxia fell.

 

One moment he was walking forward, eyes staring absentmindedly ahead. The next he was dropping down, his expression one of surprise and horror. His right foot should have extended to take his weight, but instead it was caught on something and he fell face first.

 

Rolling around he saw the cause of his misfortune. A golden hair nymph with an outstretched leg. She dipped her head. With a wicked smile in place, she folded both of her hands behind her back. “Falling for me?”

 

It had crossed his mind, once or twice, to throttle Larxene in the past. Now, with his nose throbbed in pain, he felt the urge stronger than ever. He pressed his lips into a perfectly cold line, refusing to acknowledge his degrading position. “Larxene, I believe I tasked you to keep an eye on Axel. Is there a reason you are here harassing me instead?”

 

“Do you realize how long you have been gone? Axel has gone to sleep.” She huffed.

 

He raised an eyebrow. “It that so? “

 

“Yep, I came here looking for you. It is your own fault for not paying any attention to your surroundings.” She stared down at him with something akin to disgust. “Are you just going to lay there?”

 

He nodded. Why shouldn’t he? The ground was where he belonged. Someone like him, who caused his only family member so much pain did not deserve to walk among humans. The floor understood this, punishing him with cold and hardness. Yet, Larxene did not leave. Her impatient stare pushed him to speak. “I fear I have made a terrible mistake.”

 

Larxene tilted her head to the side. A look of interest entered her eyes as she took in the state he was in. Smiling, she said. “That is okay, I have a shovel.”

 

Marluxia couldn’t help snorting. She did not have to sound so excited. “Good. Then you can bury me.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be taking a bit of a break on this fic because I have an exam coming up. So, no updates for May, but hopefully I will be back at it in June.  
> I absolutely love reading comments and I'm very curiouse what you think of this chapter or the story so far. Please leave your thought, i live for them :D


	14. Naminé part II

_“Naminé, I remembered you. My dearest, only sister.” Marluxia said with an uneasy smile._

 

_The desperation in his eyes momently brought her thoughts to a standstill. She quickly glanced away to hide the grimace her face was twisting into. An unpleasant feeling of coldness burrowed down into her bones. Part of it is was caused by the painful and chilling realization that her greatest fears were true._

_She also felt just the faintest hint of anger, though she could not tell who it was directed on. Shame for not really knowing how to console Marluxia followed closely after and eclipsed all else when she heard his sharp intake of breath._

_She swallowed down a bitter sigh and tried not to feel too helpless about the situation. But the thick dismay that she was wearing must have been obviously to Marluxia, for he didn’t hesitate to comfort her._ _Kneeling beside her, he cupped her cheek ever so gently and his gaze rested on her with such a warm familiarity that she almost cried._

_She should have known that such kindness was not meant for her. How could she have deceived herself to truly believe that **she** was worthy of being precious to someone?  It was too good to be true. A sweet dream induced by the anesthesia of falsehood._

 

_His voice cracked. “I know that no apologies could ever make things right, but please, believe me when I say that even when my memories of you were gone, I missed you.  I felt an emptiness that was only eased when I found you again. I’m so grateful to be with you again, the person most precious to me.”_

 

 

-

 

 

Memory is such strange thing, Naminé pondered.

 

Shortly after Marluxia left, the young girl collapsed into her bed.  She curled up in a tight ball and salty tears darkened her pillow. Ultimately, an exhausted sort of calm was restored. And she found herself thinking with a detached clearness.

 

Memory is strange.

 

One would think they were the source of indisputable truth by how much people relied on them.  When a memory comes into your mind, you assume what you recall is nothing but reality, and yet Naminé knows that is incorrect.

 

Browsing through Sora’s memories, she became quite familiar with all the stages of remembering. How memories are encoded, consolidated and linked together in a complex network of intersecting of thoughts and feelings.

 

She quickly understood that one does not “record” events but rather interpret them with one’s own bias and emotion. Memories are not the event itself, they are often inaccurate and influenced by many factors. For example:  Goofy was not as tall as Sora’s memories indicated, Donald looked less irritable and Riku, or rather the replica Nixio, was not as muscular (at least not compared to Marluxia).

 

_Marluxia_

 

Naminé rubbed the back of her hand across her puffy eyes before crawling to the edge. She reached down for the box stuffed underneath her bed.  It laid further back then she expected. She arched and gritted her teeth until her fingers finally grasped the corner of the box. Dragging it out and up to her lap, she blew away the dust bunnies that had found their way inside it.  Her tired eyes drifted to the various drawings she had stocked away, mostly because of their embarrassing nature, but others for the uneasiness the invoked.

 

Doodles of dandelions, half-finished sketches of a cottage and a flower with orange sepals. She spread them all out on her bed, every single piece of incriminating evidence that had accumulated because of her cowardice.  For there is no denying it anymore. She can’t no longer close her eyes and pretending she doesn’t see the train wreck that is Marluxia’s memories.

 

_(Marluxia, strong and graceful, smiling down at her with adoration.)_

 

He called her wonderful. He called her precious. He called her _sister_.

 

Everything fell into place. Everything fell to pieces. Of course, _of course_. It was not really her he cared about. Something was terribly wrong. And now she needed to get to the bottom of it.

 

She lined the artworks in chronological order, the dandelions were the oldest and the cottage the newest addition, but instinctively she knew that the flower with orange sepals was the most important piece. The moment Marluxia had looked at it in his first visit to her room, dread creeped over her like an icy chill, and she suspected ( ~~knew~~ ) that they were snippets of Marluxia’s past.

 

For ignoring it, she is to blame for this mess. **Except,** the thing is; she had _ignored_ it. She did nothing. She covered her ears like a little kid to drown out the small voice saying something was wrong and accepted something not meant for her. She changed nothing. So why were his memories in such a state?

 

Then again, memories are strange, they are altered all the time.

 

They are altered with each retelling. Every time one remember something from the past, there are always parts that have been forgotten. A blind spot in every memory that we fill in by ourselves, often by letting the emotions we connect with them color the event. If we were happy, the memory might seem idyllic. If it was fear we felt, it might distorter the memory to the extent of totally changing what we saw.

 

Marluxia’s case is more severe than what could normally be explain away.  A whole person was changed. When did this happen? Did he just suddenly one day exchange the image of his sister with her? Or does he believe Naminé is her nobody?

 

There was a noise of paper tearing as she gripped the drawings too hard and her eyes became wet, but no tears came. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Only fixing this was important, and she could not waste any more time on meltdowns. She put down the drawings. Pulling her hands around her knees, she hugged them so close that they dig into her chest. Breath.

 

Memories are vulnerable each time we revisit them. During that window, new information can interfere with the old information and alter the memory. During that window, Naminé could easiest manipulate them. And the stronger emotion connected to the memory, the greater changes she could make.

 

Okay, she was capable of influence someone’s memories to such a degree. And she, for some reason, had access to Marluxia’s memories. Not to the same extent as she had with the keyblade wielder, but enough to make her doubt herself. Did she do this? Was this a result of her subconscious manipulating? Is such thing even possible?

 

She dug her fingers into her hair and let out a groan of frustration. It was not like her powers came with a manual, but this should not be something she can accidently do. Manipulating memories demanded effort, time and at least knowledge of what was being rewritten. But she didn’t even know he had a sister! Even looking at the drawings from his memories didn’t really give her any insight to his past. Marluxia’s behavior towards her had always been odd ( ~~why would anyone care about her?~~ ), but that was the biggest issue, he behaved that way from the very first time she met him.  That begs the question, when did this all begin?

 

Something even more terrifying was the possibility that she had nothing to do with this. If that was the case, then someone else would be behind it, and that explanation was almost to worrying to contemplate. What would she do if there was someone with malicious intent targeting Marluxia? Castle oblivion is a memory research facility and Organization 13 is filled with dangerous people Marluxia is planning to betray. He was left in charge of this place and now his memories are all in pieces.

 

Naminé jumped from the bed and paced. Fear tortured her guts, churning her belly in tense cramps. She was not getting anywhere by speculating. She feared she could not solve this by herself, but Marluxia was the closest to someone she could trust.

 

Everyone else was a possible enemy. Even if they were not the ones behind this, they would certainly take advantage of Marluxia. No, she couldn’t allow that. Even if everything he felt for her was a lie, she still cared about him. Memories are a dim reflection of what has been, and she is sure she can never fill the shoes of his sister, but she would do her best to play the part for as long as he need it ( ~~please, don’t discarded me~~ ).

 

The young girl bit the inside of her cheeks hard enough to draw blood. The pain focused her and she straightened her back. She snapped her easel legs into place and put a canvas on it. No matter who was at fault, she would fix this.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

As low, dejected and depressed as she'd ever felt, Naminé dragged her feet along the marble hall.  As per usual a cold atmosphere lingered in the air. The lifeless stone-flower ornaments decorating the place reminded her a bit off a grave, and the castle felt hollow.

 

She had failed.

 

She tried long and hard to accesses Marluxia’s memories. To gather some information on and to see if she has any control of it. However, her canvas remained stubbornly blank. Whatever limited insights she had received so far had come to her in a sporadic fashion outside her control. And despite her best efforts, it seemed like it would continue to do so.

 

That was beyond maddening.

 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so, she was forced to revisit the idea of asking for help. Unfortunately, the only viable candidate is a sadistic blonde who tried to set her on fire the last time they were together.

 

Naminé, really, really, **really** , didn’t want to seek her out. And yet, beggars can't be choosers. Larxene was only other person part of Marluxia’s scheme and she _cared_ about him. Or as close as to caring that woman was capable of . She tolerated Naminé and put up an act of amiability around him. If Naminé could discreetly dig information from her it would perfect. And even if Larxene got a clue of what was going on, she would probably not endanger Marluxia.

 

Naminé shook her head, but who knew who else might get hurt?

 

As soon as Naminé rounded a corner she crashed straight into something hard and stumbled backwards. Someone reached out to steady her, their hands firm on her shoulders. She glanced up to meet the bright eyes of Nixio. A big smile blossomed on his face when he took her in. “Naminé!”

 

Before the young girl could responded, he pulled her closer to him, forcing her on her tiptoes. “Thank goodness you are here! Man, I thought I was a goner. This place is huuuuge. That Marluxia guy just straight up left me and I’ve been wondering around forever-” He let out a joyous laughter that echoed through the hallway, ”-but here you appear like a guardian angel. I could kiss you!”

 

“….Please, don’t.” Naminé whispered. A flush started in her neck and worked upward. She was close enough to count those silver eyelashes if she tried. His nose only inches from hers and it was making her stomach sink heavily. Clearing her throat, she added, “Also, would you please let go?”

 

He laughed again, his breath tickling her cheeks,” Sorry, just happy to see you.” He released her and took a step back. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, he sent her apologetic smile.

 

Naminé straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath, willing the heat to leave her face, so that she may face him with a composed expression. She raised her chin and gave him a dignified nod. Hopefully, very serene and businesslike. “No harm done. This castle is easy to get lost in, I’m sorry to hear you’ve been wandering around all alone. I could lead you to your destination if you wish.”

 

“My destination, huh, well, I was just following that _Marluxia_ guy.”  A hint of scorn entered his tone which automatically made Naminé frown.  She bit her lip to stop herself from snapping at him. After all, he hadn’t really said anything bad about Marluxia. Nixio prattled on obliviously.  “So, since he dumped me, I don’t actually have anywhere I need to be. Except, maybe I should meet the other people here on the topside? Do you guys have a meetingroom or something?”

 

“We use multiple ones. I’m on my way to one of them. I would be happy if you accompanied me.” In case Larxene attacks her and she needs backup. One can never be certain with the savage nymph, hopefully, she will be distracted by the new guy if she is in a violent mode.

 

“That sounds good to m-“ He stopped midsentence. Cocking his head to the side, he stared unblinking at her. Just as she started to feel subconscious, he said: “ What happen to your face?”

 

“What happen to my face?” She echoed.

 

He responded by once again, disregarding personal space and grabbing her chin to tilt her face up. Eying her critically, he said. “I mean, it looks pretty terrible.”

 

She only gazed at him with a bewildered look upon her face. Surely, she was hearing him wrong. While not having the greatest confident in general, she rather certain her looks weren’t problematic. She is _cute_. She had heard that much from Marluxia, and he is great authority in all matters related to appearance.  Even Larxene had agreed! With great indignation, she slapped his hand away and argued. “No, it is not.”

 

Horror washed over Nixio’s face and he waved his hands fanatically. “Sorry! That came out wrong. Your face only looks ugly now.” He facepalmed. “ That is to say, you are normally very pretty, yes, you have a good face! It is symmetrical. And soft looking and stuff…”

 

“You should really mind your manners. Perhaps, just keep your silence, so another ill-thought out word doesn’t come out.” She said, mostly because it seemed like something Marluxia would say. The scythe wielder, recent behavior not taken to account, set a very good example in his conduct.  She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow to complete the image.

 

Burying his face in his hands, he let a loud groan and mumbled. “Stupid, stupid mouth. Why isn’t Zexion here to stop me?” He looked beseeching to roof with a pained expression. As though willing it to collapse on him.

 

How odd, Naminé though. To see such an expression on a face copied from Riku. The more she was around Nixio, the more he diverts from the boy he was based on.  To begin with, she found it unsettling, like he was breaking character, but she might end up appreciated these differences. Everyone from Sora’s memories always felt distant from her, like they were story-book pieces she could never interact with. For she had no place in their narrative.

 

Before the melancholy could take root, Nixio caught her attention again. His shoulders were hunched, eyes cast downward, but his voice came out strong and sincere. “Your eyes are red and puffy.” He lifted his head to meet her eyes. “Are you okay?”

 

Naminé _laughed_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Finally done with my exam and ready to write again. It is always fun to write form Naminé's pov. What do you guys think? Reviews fuel me and pushes me to write. So, please write down your thoughts :D


	15. Naminé part III

Naminé walked briskly ahead of Nixio, with quick, short steps. She could feel his eyes boring into her, making the small hairs on the back of her neck tingle, and causing her cheeks to flush up. The scrutiny made her uncomfortable the longer it lasted, but perhaps that was fair. He had certainly looked unsettled when she had busted into laughter at his concern.

 

She shook her head at the thought of that embarrassing moment.

 

By the time her hysteria had subsided, the air between them had turned unbearably tense, and remained that way.  It would be great if she could delete that memories. She had never tried before, but surely, shouldn’t she be able to manipulate her own memories?

 

A voice sounded terrifyingly much like Larxene taunted; _Sure, brilliant idea, that’s **exactly** what we need now, more people with messed up memories….._

 

Naminé let out a small sigh. True, now was not the time to get caught up in ridiculous notions, she need to focus on helping Marluxia. Anything else was inconsequential.

 

The thudding-sound of Nixo’s footsteps echoed in her ear, as they made their way across the hallway, almost rhythmic, like a heartbeat. She closed her eyes, allowing the sound to reverberate through her, and pretend for a second that she was whole. It was strangely comforting.

 

If possible, she would like to give such a moment of peace to Marluxia, to soothe away the confusion and pain she last seen in his face.

 

She opened her eyes as they finally came upon the passage leading to their destination, but not before an image of fast-approaching flames came to her mind. On the heels of that thought, she could almost _feel_ the agony of her boots melting into her flesh. Taking in a ragged breath, she turned to the sliver haired boy inching towards her.

 

“Up there,” she mustered up a half smile before slowly climbing the stairs to the floor the Savage Nymphs resided in. Nixio followed at a steady pace, catching up to her easily, but remained silent. They reached the top, side by side, shoulders almost brushing, where two separate hallways stretching back farther than either could see, simply ending in darkness.

 

Larxene’s lair was to the west. Naminé had been there before, when Marluxia was showing her around the castle, and she was surprised how well she remembered the way. Once they reached the closed door at the end of the hall, where the older woman’s rooms were, Naminé hesitated. She stood frozen with her hand hovering over the doorknob, before deciding it would be better to knock.

 

First, she knocked very lightly, but after a while without any answer, she knocked a couple more times with greater force, but still nothing.

 

Biting her lower lip, she struggled with deciding the next move. Barging in uninvited seemed like a quick way to be set on fire again, but it was not like she could just give up, not with Marluxia counting on her.

 

In the end, the decision was taken out of her hands.

 

Nixio, after letting out a frustrated sound, stepped back and _kicked_ the door open. It got slammed to the side, hard enough to make the wall shake, and loud enough to wake the dead.

 

Naminé stared at him in wide-eyed horror, praying fervently that Larxene was not anywhere close, that she was far, far, far away and would remained so. Unconcerned, Nixio charged in and Naminé barely resisted the urge to scream and lunged at him. Instead she timidly followed, repeating to herself that Marluxia needed her help, and glanced around the training room, half expecting Larxene to jump out any moment.

 

With a gasp, she noticed the dent left on the wall by the door, and knew they would have to answer for their crimes sooner or later.  They walked into a narrow corridor with several rooms on both sides, devoid of doors to keep them out. Nixo stopped at the first room, a training area, littered with knifes Larxene could pierce them with.

 

“Huh, looks like no one is here,” Nixio clasped his hand behind his head, looking far too relaxed for the situation they were in.

 

Naminé glared at him, “As dumb luck would have it, yes, Larxene is gone and not here to see the wreck you have made of her wall!” She moved closer to him and jabbed her finger into his chest, “Yet!”

 

Nixo blinked a couple of times before glancing at the door, and winched when he saw the extent of the damage he'd caused. ”Oh…Sorry,”, the small blond huffed and he gave her an apologetic smile, “Heh, I got a little too tense. I know…. _stupid_ of me.”

 

He scratched his cheek, glancing away momently, “I’ll explain it to the owner of these rooms, so, um, please forgive me, Naminé?”  his bright eyes locked into hers as he made the request. Unconsciously, her fingers curled around the fabric of his coat, right above where a heart normally would have beaten.

 

_Forgive me, Naminé_

 

How odd, to hear someone ask for her forgiveness- her anger melted away- to hear someone apologize to her, for the second time this day.

_No, it not. Naminé, I’m so sorry-I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness- You are nothing but a wonderful sister._

 

She nodded stiffly and stepped away from him. Clearing her throat a little more loudly than she'd intended, she made her way past him, “Very well, let us continue to the meeting room. There is a good chance the others might join us later.”

 

Unless they would decide to hold a gathering in another meeting room, but even if that would be the case, Larxene at least, would return here.

 

 

The meeting room was adjoined to Larxene’s training room, and thus a very short walk away. It was predictably empty, and therefore Naminé didn’t protested when Nixio ran off to explore the other rooms with what could only be described as excitement. She sat down in the chair closest to the exist and pondered whether the older woman had gone to terrorize Sora or not. After all, the little memory trip she sent him off to should end soon, someone would have to give him the next card. Her pondering didn’t last long as Nixio interrupted her by yelling her name.

 

 

“Oi, Naminé, get over here quickly!”

 

 

She followed his voice to one of the rooms further down the corridor, into what seemed to be a small library room, filled with rows and rows of books on well taken care of bookshelves.

 

The replica had his face plastered to the window in the middle of the room, without turning around, he waved her closer. Interest piqued, Naminé moved to glanced out the window, “What did you want to show me? I can’t see anyth-“

 

“There!” Nixo interrupted. Knocking his fingers on a little to the left on the window impatiently, “Someone is out there.”

 

 

Naminé narrowed her eyes and concentrated, and could indeed see a figure moving around outside the castle. It took her a moment before she spotted the blonde hair and identified it as Larxene. Pressing her face against the window too, she noticed Larxene was holding…something?  But it was too dark to tell what. Her movements were also strange, bending up and down, carrying something and throwing it, almost like, well, like she was burying something.

 

 

_Oh._

 

 

Suddenly, Larxene stops. Then, slowly, very slowly, Laxene started to turn her head around, but her body remained perfectly still, and Naminé snapped. She lunged at Nixio, pushing him away from the window until she had him pressed against the wall. His hands reached out to grab her shoulders and he looked at her completely bewildered.

 

“What a heartwarming sight we have here.” A voice drawled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This chapter came a lot later than I planned, but I hope you guys like it, despite the typos it probably has (too sick to look properly over it). 
> 
> I have some news, me and Kamico has started a new fic called "Playing House" and it is already on 5000 words. It is a story about a Xemnas that is much more like Terra than canon, and has a lot of great plot points I look forward to writing and posting. Do check it out!
> 
> Thanks for reading, giving kuoes and writing comments, it really makes me happy and makes posting this fic enjoyable :D


	16. Naminé part IV

“Axel!” Nixio and Naminé both exclaimed.

 

The redhead was leaning against the entrance to the library with his arms crossed, green eyes sweeping up and down their interlocked bodies with curiosity. After a short moment of silence, he pushed himself upright and raised his hand to tap his forehead. “Good to hear you both have it memorized.”

 

The grip on Naminé’s shoulders tightened painfully. Startled, she whipped her head up to ask Nixio to stop, but the enraged look clouding his eyes silenced her. A rumbling vibration traveled upwards his chest, which her hands were still pressed against, escaping his mouth as a low growl. “ _Axel_ ,” he said again, with more venom this time.

 

Her eyes widened in surprise. How….? When did Nixio and Axel meet? What had Axel done to arouse such animosity? Many more questions raced through the young witch head as her eyes darted between them.

 

Unfazed by Nixio’s glare, Axel simply studied the bookshelves with exaggerated interest. “Who would have guessed Larxene was such a bookworm?”

 

Then, he sauntered across the room, picking up a book laying on a cozy armchair in the corner opposite to where her and Nixio stood. Catching a short glimpse of the tittle ‘Marquis de Sade’, Naminé inwardly winched at how roughly Axel grabbed it. That was one of Larxene’s favorites, if she remembered right.   

 

“I doubt I can even pronounce this right,” Axel said, before he tossed the book back on the chair.

 

Tired of craning her neck back to look at the flame-caster, Naminé disentangled herself from Nixio, much to his visible displeasure, and asked, “What are you doing here Axel?”

Axel raised an eyebrow, “I could ask the same,” he took some steps towards her, “but then again, the answer is pretty obvious; Looking for the resident of this floor, right?”

 

“Right,” the blonde frowned, a bit uneasy. She hasn’t really interacted much with Axel, only meeting him once before, but Nixio’s hostility was not easing her nerves. Her experience so far with the organization members have taught her to expect the worst, for they will cause harm to her sooner or later. And now she had Marluxia to worry about too. Maybe the best course of action would be to get rid of him as quickly as possible? So, she continued, “but actually, you might be able to help me as well.”

 

“Oh?”

 

She nodded more confidently, “The keyblade wielder should be available again soon and someone needs give him the next card,” reaching into her sleeve, Naminé pulled a deck of cards. Since travel town was completed, the next memory would be Monstro, so she picked it out and allowed her sleeve swallow back the rest.

 

This time, she decided not to throw it, but as she started to walk towards Axel, Nixio grabbed her wrist and turned her towards him. “Naminé, you shouldn’t trust _him_ with that or anything for that matter.”

 

“Heh, still bitter about last time Nixio?” Axel smirked, “Zexion recovered just fine, so, why can't we just let bygones be bygones?”

 

Nixio scoffed at the notion and tapped his own forehead, “As if! I got your untrustworthiness memorized.”

 

With an air of finality, Nixio pulled Naminé towards the exit, as they were about to cross its threshold, he glanced back over his shoulder to add.

 

"... _bitch_."

 

The redhead threw back his head and roared with laughter. An unsettling sound, considering the circumstances. Naminé and Nixio exchanged glances, the small blonde was split between sticking to her original plan of distracting Axel and the reasonable idea of getting far away from him.

 

“How harsh,” Axel voice was laced with amusement. Wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes, he said,“ but if you _feel_ so strongly about it, then you might be interested to know that your dear Zexion is in danger.”

 

Nixio’s whole body tensed up, a dark expression settled on his face, and turned toward Axel like an enraged beast getting ready to pounce. Having let go of Naminé, his clenched fists hung at his sides, shaking violently. He glared at Axel with so much rage lurking beneath his eyes. “I swear if yo-“

 

“Relax, I’m not at fault,” Axel shrugged, palms up. “You see, the original Riku has entered the castle.”

 

Nixio froze, shock seemingly dousing his fury.  His face turned unreadable, and he just stood there staring ahead with a blank gaze. Worried, Naminé gently laid her hand upon his arm. She did not like the way this was progressing, neither anger or blankness suited him.

 

“Nixio?”

 

Her voice startled him back to reality and caused him to let out a surprised yelp. He stared at her face with a dazed, helpless look, before closing his eyes and dragged in a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, almost fragile, as if about to break, “He is here?”

 

A spark of amusement entered Axel eyes, infuriating Naminé. Once again, he crept closer to them, “Zexion and the rest is dealing with him right now, hopefully he won’t be too much for them to handle.”

 

A light giggling caught their attention, followed closely by a dark portal swirling into existence before the window, and from it emerged a dirt covered Larxene swinging a shovel. She turned to Axel, tilting her head to the side with a predatory twist, but smiling sweetly, “My, my, Axel! You are proving to be quite adapt at reconnaissance, even when napping….”

 

The shovel let out a horrible, screeching sound as Larxene dragged it across the marble floor, making the other three wince. “Though, your reporting skills needs work.”

 

“Should I stick to my usual job assignment instead?” Axel shrugged.

 

Larxene raised the tip of her shovel to his jaw, and hummed, “Giving up so quickly? How boooring~.”

 

Looking rather unimpressed, Axel pulled his head back and turned his eyes towards Naminé. Then, he closed the distance between them with a few long strides. “I think I’ll take that card, little miss,” he said stretching his hand out, “We can’t keep the keyblade wielder waiting.”

 

Naminé opened her mouth, but the replica was the one that answered him, “Wait! If what you said is true,” Nixio grimaced as though having swallowed something foul tasting, “Then, take me to back to the basement first!”

 

Larxene raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Leaving us so soon?”

 

But it didn’t really look like she cared that much. Naminé on the other hand, barely held back her own protest. It hardly seemed like a good idea, especially considering how Axel had practically goaded Nixio to come along with him, but at the same time, speaking to Larxene _alone_ was necessary.

 

Their discussion would involve some confidential information (though how much she would share with the sadistic blonde remained to be seen) that she didn’t exactly trust Nixio with. Still, she couldn’t help but to feel like the silver haired boy had walked himself into a trap.

 

Her expression must have reflected her thoughts because Nixio placed his hand over hers where it was resting on his arm, squeezing it. His eyes shone bright with determination.

 

“Sorry, it dumb of me to just ditch you guys like this,” he released a huff of humorless laughter, rubbing the back of his head, “I mean, they probably don’t need _my_ help, they are pretty strong, but….”

 

_But I can’t just sit around while they are in danger either._

 

That was something Naminé could comprehend, she had someone she wanted to protect too. So, how could she possible stop him? They gazed at each other, sharing a brief moment of mutual understanding before Naminé handed him the card.

 

He didn’t glance back as he followed Axel into the dark portal.

 

And just like that, she was alone with Larxene. Time for her to fight her own battles. Naminé took a deep breath, “Larx-“

 

“Ugh, not now,” Larxene waved her hand impatiently, “I’m grimy and filthy all over and desperately need a shower.”

 

“But!” Naminé protested.

 

“But nothing, just wait here. I’ve dirtied this place enough,” she then left the room, mumbling “and don’t dare to touch anything.”

 

Naminé felt her own irritation surge, she did not come here to be pushed aside like this! She made up her mind to follow, but stopped up when she heard Larxene high-pitched shriek.

 

“What happened to my door!”

 

Then again, perhaps it would be better to stay here…..

 

 

-

 

 

Larxene was away for a long time, far too long for a simple shower. And yet, it still took a considerable amount of extra time for Naminé to muster up the courage to venture to what she believed was the savage nymph’s bedroom.  She could hear movement inside: footsteps on the floor, something heavy being tossed around and a sharp snapping sound. None of that was reassuring, but she knocked anyway, ” Larxene, are you decent?”

 

A muffled giggle could be heard, but a few moments past before Larxene answered, “Not morally, but I’m wearing pants if that’s what you’re asking,” loud thumps echoed, “Just come in!”

 

With great reluctance, Naminé did.

 

The room turned out to be a storage room with many boxes, destroyed dummies and various of objects littered around. An alarming number of them had traces of blood and Naminé had to tear her gaze from what looked to be a collection of bones.   

 

Unfortunately, she found no comfort in the sight of Larxene twirling a knife in her hand, smiling with brilliant white teeth. “Now, tell me little witch, what do you want?”

 

“Um,” Naminé gulped nervously, “I wanted to talk to you about Marluxia?”

 

The older woman pulled out a chair and sat down. Crossing her legs, she was still twirling her knife. “Funny, he talked about you too.”

 

The room lapsed into silence, as Naminé furiously tried to think of something to say. Although Larxene’s gaze grow sympathetic the longer the silent lasted, Naminé‘s wariness increased, for blade-wielder’s smile bordered on unnerving.

 

“Do you want to guess what he said?” She asked with a saccharine drawl- making Naminé’s skin crawl- followed by a pointed look demanding an answer. The small blonde barely managed to shake her head, as her lip began to quiver, but it seemed to be enough for Larxene.

 

“No? Too bad, I love guessing games,” Larxene continued to deliver the next words with the innocence of an angel, “But don’t worry, I know you’ll go running to big brother if I'm to forcefully with you, so I’ll play nice this time.”

 

“I-I d..d..d-on’t,” Naminé turned pale with fear.

 

“You d..d..d..don’t what?” Larxene smirked mockingly, tapping one heel on the floor, “Speak clearly, dear.”

 

Potent apprehension ran through Naminé’s blood with the virility of an out of control flame, and her panic-riddled mind was racing, eyes darting around the room, trying to think of an answer that wouldn’t get her slaughtered on the spot.

 

She should say it is a mistake, that she doesn’t know why Marluxia would claim that. Admit she knows his memories were off, but that she hasn’t tampered with them. Would Larxene believe her though? What if the only thing holding her back was the possibility that Naminé really was Marluxia’s sister? Could she risk casting away her only protection?

 

In the end, she decided to give an ambiguous answer to test the waters, “W-well, that’s neither here nor there…” her voice trailed off.

 

For in that moment, right before her eyes, Larxene’s mirth transitioned seamlessly into rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Larxene and Naminé talks together once more, hopefully their conversation will have a peaceful ending.
> 
> Thanks for reading, giving kuoes and writing comments, it really makes me happy and makes posting this fic enjoyable :D
> 
> Oh, btw, I have some news, me and Kamico has started a new fic called "Playing House" and it is already on 5000 words. It is a story about a Xemnas that is much more like Terra than canon, and has a lot of great plot points I look forward to writing and posting. Do check it out!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation after chapter 13

Marluxia couldn’t help snorting. She did not have to sound so excited. “Good. Then you can bury me.”

 

Larxene threw back her head with a laugh that made him ache inside, feel raw with longing, yet curiously soothed him at the time. It was such a musical, sweet sound. So vastly different from the callous image she usually projected, but also incredibly fitting. It stirred him, enraptured him, and he wished to wrap himself.

 

Marluxia shook his head at the absurdity of his thoughts. Perhaps his disasters talk with his sister affected him more than expected, why else would he suddenly develop overly sentimental feelings about Larxene’s laughter.

 

He is tired. That must be the explanation. He cleared his throat, “All jesting aside, I should leave and-“

 

As soon as the word left his mouth, he felt himself drift into memoryland for the second time that day.

 

-

_“I should leave,” he softy sighed, breathing in the crisp scent of damp earth and fresh greenery, feeling lighter than he has in a long time._

_It was late into the afternoon, and the two of them were resting under a giant oak; his head pillowed on her lap while she read a book. They had spent half the day lounging around the park, enjoying each other’s company. After jumping from one topic to another during their light-hearted conversations, they eventually lapsed into a comfortable silence._

_One he had reluctantly broken._

_She paused her reading to glanced down at him. Absentmindedly, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear when the breeze tousled her hair, and the sunset drenched her skin in a soft orange glow. A small smirk played upon her lips, when she caught him staring at her in admiration, and that familiar mischievous glint entered her eyes once more, “Don't fret just yet. I just need to finish this chapter, then you can escort me home like a proper gentleman.”_

_He snorted in amusement. “Since when do you need an escort?”_

_“The streets are dangerous at this hour, there are many suspicious character wandering around looking for victims. It is simply not safe,” she heaved an exaggerated sigh, “Especially for a delicate lady such as myself.”_

_Wishing to prolong their time together, he played along, nodding solemnly, “Certainly. I hate to imagine which horrors might befall you if none is there to protect the poor fools testing your delicate temper. Why, you might even end up in jail!”_

_“I'm sure I don't know what you mean, “she spoke in a haughty tone._

_He stifled a laugh, warmth bloomed within his chest, and tried to keep his voice even, “You have 15 min to finish.”_

_“Make that 30 min,“ she replied with a cheeky grin, running her fingers through his hair. His eyes became half-lidded with pleasure, enjoying the rhythmic drag of her nails along his scalp._

_I didn’t want this to end, he thought. Watching the sun fall behind the horizon, signaling that the day was ending soon, reminded him that he had other obligations. Time spend together with her always flew by too quickly, he sighed again, “Only 30 min. I don’t want to keep the others waiting.”_

_She hummed softly, some tune he didn't recognize; A pleasant, soothing melody making him drowsy. The headache that had been plaguing him this weeks eased under her gentle ministrations, and he drifted into sleep._

_He woke up just as twilight beckoned the stars._

_-_

_Her lips, painted in that deep red shade of velvet rose petals, were creased in a playful smirk, as though she really didn’t care what response she might receive. She looked confident and untouchable. Like there was nothing he could say that would faze her._

_So, keeping his eyes challengingly locked on hers, he reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. He traced her lip lightly with the tip of his finger, their breath intermingling as he leaned forward, his nose almost brushing hers._

_Surprise colored her cheeks in a lovely pink hue and he noticed the freckles on her bottom lip. Pulse racing, lightheaded, he sucked in a deep breath as uncertainty hit him. Was he moving too fast? This was a terrible idea.What if he had misread her all this time and she actually hated him? Then again, she would have told him that to his face if that was the case, she was not someone who faked friendliness. But liking him as a friend was not the same as wanting more. What if-?_

_She made an impatient sound before closing the distance between them. Pressing against him fierce, passionate and demanding; Causing his body to flush with heat and his heart to sing with pure joy. His hand slid off her face and tightened around her waist, while hers encircle his neck, as the kiss began to grow heavy._

_When they finally broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against her, studying her with silent intensity. Grinning cheerfully, she leaned forward and gave his lower lip a playful nibble, her bold little move elicited a throaty laughter mixed with desire from him._

_-_

_She moved closer so that he felt her presence, yet stayed quiet, allowing him to stay lost in the moment a while longer._

_“No one has seen her,” he breathed out, struggling to regain his composure as the insidious worry thrashed underneath his skin, threating to tear him apart. How could he have let this happened? Guilt, shame, despair and hopelessness pierced his chest with every breath. Unshed tears stung his eyes and he began to tremble ever so slightly._

_Soft footsteps approached him and her hand found his. The whirlwind of his emotions stumbled to a halt as he looked at her. Her green eyes shone with strength and determination when she met his gaze._

_“We will find your sister.”_

 

-

 

 

“We already have.” Marluxia’s voice cracked, still laying on the floor where Larxene had tripped him, but now with silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

Larxene blinked in confusion, “What? Why the sudden mood change, Marluxia?”

 

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, full of self-loathing and anger, as he marveled at his own ability to forget those important to him. Truly, what an absolutely delightful companion he was! What a great disappointment he must be for his loved ones, for them to go as far as to fake unawareness to their shared past, just so they don’t have to confront his ignorance.

 

“I remember everything, Larxene,” he said gravely.

 

Within seconds, the blonde crouched down beside him, her expressive face carefully blank, giving him no clues as to what she was thinking. Her voice sharp and short when she asked, “Everything?”

 

He propped himself up on his elbows, tilting his head up to meet her oddly intense gaze, and felt like he really saw her for the first time. His hand reached out to caress her cheek before he could fully comprehend the impulse, but it felt right. A shudder went through her body and something desperate ran along the edges of mouth as she studied him.

 

“I do,” he paused, frowning as he took in the worry etched across her face, “Or, at least I believe so. I sincerely hope that is the case, I'm not sure I can handle one more revelations today.”

 

“What exactly do you remember?” She pressed immediately.

 

“Us,” he said with a hint of uncertainty for he didn’t truly remember much of it. Her unimpressed stare was far from assuring, so he hurried on to the topic he held utmost confidence in, “I remember my sister.”

 

The blonde leaned forward, soft strands of her hair brushed against his forehead, “And?”

 

Marluxia smiled, his chest bursting with joy and sorrow, “We talked, she is a bit upset with me, understandably, but I’m sure Naminé will eventually forgive me.”

 

“…”

 

An uncomfortable silence descended over them. Once again, Larxene face turned unreadable. She let out a sigh and summoned a dark portal that swallowed them. This time it was Marluxia’s turn to be stumped, but before he could ask any questions Larxene gripped his wrist and pulled him towards another portal, leading right into his room.

 

“Stay here and rest.” She ordered, pointing her finger at his bed.

 

He gawked at her in astonishment, slightly insulted to be sent to his room as though he was an ill-behaved child, but her tired stare rendered him speechless. The guilt returned in full force as he struggled to consolidate the memory of her adoring gaze with her present displeased scowl.

 

She turned from him and walked towards the portal, pausing a moment to mock, “You know, idiocy doesn’t suit you, despite it being a look you choose to wear persistently these days.”

 

Then she was gone.

 

Marluxia sank into his bed, hiding his face in his hands, stifling back a sob. What an utterly draining day this was, he thought as his headache flared up.  Hearts really were painful.

 

~~I’m sorry. I'm sorry so sorry that I let you down~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little worried that I'm about to develop a habit of writing in the middle of night, so sleepy, but also, so motivated to write. Sorry this isn't a direct continuation of last chapter, but next chapter will be about the full gang Larxene/Naminé/Marluxia!
> 
> I hope you guys liked the chapter! Thanks for reading, giving kuoes and writing comments, it really makes me happy and makes posting this fic enjoyable :D
> 
> Oh, btw, I have some news, me and Kamico has started a new fic called "Playing House" and it is already on 5000 words. It is a story about a Xemnas that is much more like Terra than canon, and has a lot of great plot points I look forward to writing and posting. Do check it out!


	18. Chapter 18

**-Marluxia-**

 

Larxene ordered him to rest.

 

So, Marluxia laid still in his bed, stiff as a corpse, with his eyes stubbornly closed.

 

Rest.

 

Miserably, he tried to navigate through the narrow lane between several volatile memories and his fragile conception of reality on either side cemented with an uneven stretch of worn out, cracked sanity.

 

He re-visited the memories of his first days on the organization; The emptiness, the cold, Xigbar’s crooked grin as he recruited him, swarm of heartlessness and endless missions. Despite previously having thought of the days spent following orders as a waste of time and utterly beneath him, they now brought a sense of comfort for simply being the only vicinity in his mind untouched by the polluting madness of the memory-impairment plaguing him.

 

Rest.

 

Nothing good, or in this case barely passable, lasted long. His first meeting with Xemnas shoved itself to the front of his mind. A memory that grow more and more infuriating with time, previously sunned by his irate, but today it was watered by his despair. For only now did he understand the sheer depth of cruelty inflicted on him; In that meeting, he had giving Xemnas his name, and just like those horrifying creatures from his grandma bedtimes stories, the man had greedily grabbed it and with it all Marluxia used to be. 

 

_Rest._

 

Thoughts swirling around mercilessly — from contradicting memories, to painful truths, mocking ideas, desperate prayers —  all spinning and spinning and spinning. How he wished he could narrow all the uncertainties into one solitary clarity. 

 

Yes, in an ideal world, calm would grow in him, as his consciousness ebbed, and his mind would free fall right into the oblivion of sleep. After some time, he would wake up well rested and level headed, shaking of the doubt that had plagued him. Composed, he would speak to his sister again, genuinely apologizes again.  And again, and again, and again — as many times as necessary, so that she would understand how utterly remorseful he was —  and _then….._

 

Naminé would give him a smile etched with forgiveness. His hands would curl into fists to avoid reaching out to her, which she would notice and throw her arms around him, startling a half-choked laugh out of him. Larxene would appear, smirking in triumph while saying something with a slow drawl meant to be mocking, but the effect would be ruined by the sincere happiness in her eyes. He would roll his eyes and Naminé would burst into a fit of the giggles, which him and Larxene would join.

 

Their shared mirth would be light-hearted, joyful and lovely; Completely at odds with the deranged laughter foaming and seething throughout his insides, pouring out his mouth as ugly desolation produced in sounds.

 

~~There is no forgiveness, there is no forgiveness, there is no forgiveness.~~

 

Uncontrolled and wild, the laughter just kept accelerating. He franticly begged it to slow, only so he could breathe, but it wouldn't.

 

He rolled out of the bed and fell to his knees, still laughing hard and deeply, tears in eyes, his chest heaving in and out as he sweated, his whole body shook and he dug his nails into his scalp. Trembling continuously; each breath he took sounded like a gasp for life, and he wished he could just black out. The room was spinning and he was feeling so terrible sick.

 

He wanted to call out for help but even if he could manage to voice anything other than this accursed giggle, no one would be here to hear it.  

 

Discarded-No, Forgotten, he was forgotten, oh, sweet irony. Crackling even harder, he shoved his fist into his mouth, tasting blood, blood, blood, blood- Was there not a law? Yes, one that required everything be cleansed with blood, for the shedding of blood equals forgiveness? But who, he didn’t know, what's their name, who too, too far away, he's gone, he went, breathe, gone, what blood, too far away... blackness... creeping darkness... H-he was curled up on floor- rocking back and forth. Where is he, what's his name, who to call, what's blood, the stairs are too steep, the room is spinning...darkness...he's gone...

 

 

“It’s okay,” a gentle voice whispered.

 

A familiar, soothing presence settling around him, cocooning him with warmth and comfort. His eyes struggled to decipher its vague outline; The fierce red and golden colors of the sunset bleeding and burning above him, making Marluxia yearn to stretch towards it like a flower deprived of light.

 

Unexpectedly, he felt fingers running through his hair, the touch so soft that it felt like a breeze. And as he was on the verge of losing his consciousness, he heard;

 

“I’ll wait for as long as you need. So, it’s okay.”

 

 

-

 

 

**-Naminé-**

_“W-well, that’s neither here nor there…” Naminé’s voice trailed off._

 

 

An air of discomfort and claustrophobia almost overwhelmed Naminé, intensified by each clicking sound of Larxene’s heel as she closed in at her, but despite her fear or maybe because of it, the young artist walked towards the furious woman. Determined to meet her halfway, and quickly attaching a fake veneer of calm over her features, inwardly repeating; Be strong, be brave, Marluxia needs you.

 

Simultaneous, almost as though synchronized, the two blondes stopped a few steps away from each other, both adopting matching stance; toes pointing slightly outward, muscles tense, coiled and ready to strike, almost as though daring the other to provoke an attack.

 

It was not before Naminé began the movement of flicking her wrist — a motion meant to slip the slim handle of a knife into her hand from a sheath that was most definitely _not_ hidden inside her sleeves — that she realized that she was mirroring Larxene.

 

The artist wrinkled her nose in dismay, feeling rather embarrassed for having subconscious mimicked the older woman with such ease. To compensate, she put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow arrogantly. For a split second, Larxene’s eyes flickered with amusement, reflecting equal parts mirth and exasperation, but it quickly melted back to bitterness.

 

The savage nymph took advantage their close proximity and grabbed Naminé with one hand, fingers curling around the silver zipper adorning each and every one of their coats, forcing her to stand on her toes.

 

“Wrong answer,” Larxene sneered, "Want to try again?"

 

Okay, Naminé breathed in, okay, this was about how she imagined this would go down. Be strong, be brave, Marluxia needs you.

 

 

“Y-you are right, I wasn’t sure how much to share with you,” Naminé voice trembled a bit, but her eyes were firm, “I find hard to trust you, Larxene.”

 

“Now, now, don’t be ridicules! You can trust me….trust me to cut off layer, for layer of your pretty skin if you don’t explain yourself,” Larxene gave her an cruel smile devoid of warmth. Promises of pain and destruction generously woven in.

 

Larxene words did provoke immense fear, enough to force Naminé to hold back a shudder, but she didn't come all this way to be trapped inside her own cowardice so she answered, “You can threaten me all you want-“,

 

“Oh, I’ll do more than just threaten you, “ Larxene purred, eased her grip and stretching out a finger to caress her cheek. Long nails peeling a bit of skin right off.

 

Naminé felt the hot sear of tears burn at the back of her eyes, she furiously blinked them away, refusing to give Larxene the satisfaction.

 

“Is this really necessary?” The teen managed to say through gritted teeth.

 

Larxene titled her head as though contemplating the question, eventually she shrugged, “Yep, it is essential for me to have a good time, duh.”

 

A spiteful, vicious part of Naminé, wanted to smash Larxene’s head against the wall, and shriek so that she would understand what a pain she was being. And that anger bleed into her next words, “Marluxia’s well-being is essential for me, so excuse me for not spilling me all my worries to a callous and insensitive brute such as yourself!”

 

Larxene looked taken back, her face distorted with outrage, but before she could mistreat Naminé more, the young artist smacked her hands away with a strength that surprised both of them.  

 

“So spare me this-this posturing? Playing? I mean, what the actually fuck Larxene?”  Said woman shoot her an incredulous stare, but Naminé soldiered on, “How do you expect to receive an honest answer when you are behaving like a terrifying psychopath? Ever thought of that?”

 

 

“Now hold on a minute,” Larxene hissed, “Spare me the fake indignation, Marluxia’s memories are muddled, and that makes you the main suspect!” She jabbed Naminé’s chest with a pointed finger at each utterance, “Not to mention that his memories conveniently paint you as his most important person, and yet you have the _gall_ to talk about trust.”

 

“I didn’t mess with his memories!” Naminé yelled.

 

 

“Hah! You expect me to just believe that?”  

 

 

Naminé let out a short, frustrated sound. Trembling with **rage**...but that was not completely true, now was it?

 

 

_Anger is born of pain and sadness_

 

 

A soft voice whispered, from within if Larxene’s lack of reaction was any indication, and Naminé felt her blazing fury extinguish. Surprisingly, Larxene didn't speak, only stood there, waiting, waiting for Naminé to try to defend herself.

 

 

Not that she could, her strength disappeared with her anger, and left her so tired her bones ached, and yet Larxene was waiting for an answer.

 

 

“No…to be honest, I’m not sure I believe it,” the artist sighed, “I-I have cached some snips of his memories, so I can’t rule myself out either.”

 

Naminé’s voice came out hoarse, laden with noticeable distress like chains tightened around her neck, cutting of the blood flow, yet she continued, “You don’t have to believe me, just….p-please, work with me to h-h-help him, I don’t care what happens to me afterwards. I c-c-ca-a-a-“

 

Tears started spilling from her eyes and a choked sob tore from her throat, she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle them; Guilt, shame and fear raging inside her. She couldn’t even finish her sentence.  How pathetic. Pull yourself together!

 

Larxene observed her coldly, emotions wiped away from her face expression, and for one terrible moment Naminé feared she would just kill her; but Larxene simply turned away from her.

 

“Okay. I’ll wait and see for now, so, it’s okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again exams kept me from updating, but at least the result were better this time!  
> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, please write down your thoughts, there is nothing that makes me happier and it motivates me to write more:D

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been sitting on my brain for a while. Feels good to finally write it. Please let me now what you think! Reviews are fuels to my writing.


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